Skip to main content

Full text of "The Papers of Randolph Abbott Shotwell. Vol III."

See other formats 


m 
!9H 

RBhII               llfllHnlil  d 

I  IB  111 

nil 

PBilllBilil 

1111111 

II          ■Hit 

Hill 

Rumlnlil          Hilt!' 

1 

HUlffliilniltiiil  nfilim  Hilii! 

||U|iUllil|i# 

lUu]                IllliiiilUkill              illiiiil            ll)lliii!iii«l1                        lilllitUil                                   Iii1(iiliiitl 

■ 

KB! 


Fall  l 


2l\ 

BE* 


HHIUUUH 


mmm 


H  RH    n    flu llll  Inn 
inUHH  fl  niBHl  HH 

iffliilliiiHliiHI     UIHIII  Hill  II I  Hill 

Hi  nil   Hi  n  1 


iIIIIIHIhIIIII 

pumr 


llllllll  IIIIM  llll  lllllllnl 


mam 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

LYRASIS  members  and  Sloan  Foundation 


http://www.archive.org/details/papersofrandolph03shot 


PUBLICATIONS 


OF  THE 


NORTH    CAROLINA    HISTORICAL    COMMISSION 


THREE  YEARS  IN  BATTLE 


AND 


THREE  IN  FEDERAL  PRISONS 


VA-C* 


bLorth  Carolina  State  Library 
Raleigh 

THE  PAPERS  OF 


RANDOLPH  ABBOTT   SHOTWELL 


EDITED  BY 

J.  G.  de  ROULHAC  HAMILTON 

WITH  THE  COLLABORATION  OF 

REBECCA  CAMERON 


VOLUME  III 


.  >  > 


»»  » > .    > 

• .  >  >    >  > 

» » >   i  >  > 


RALEIGH 
THE  NORTH  CAROLINA  HISTORICAL  COMMISSION 

1936 


North  Carolina  Steta  Library" 


G* 


Pfc|<a?ri^ 


Ft 

V3 


THE  NORTH  CAROLINA  HISTORICAL  COMMISSION 


M.  C.  S.  Nobi,e,  Chairman 

H^RIOT  Cl^ARKSON  J.  Al^AN   DUNN 

George  McNdiu,  Wiwjam  K.  Boyd 

C.  C.  Crittenden,  Secretary 

Raleigh 


iii      i 

.  i .  i 


*  t    <  <  <   » * 


•  «    « • 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter  Twelfth — Marion  and  Raleigh 1 

Chapter   Thirteenth — Convicted   and   Sentenced 37 

Chapter  Fourteenth — The  Journey 86 

Chapter  Fifteenth — Albany  Penitentiary 111 

Chapter  Sixteenth — The  Early  Days 135 

Chapter  Seventeenth— The  Diary,   1871-1873 174 

Chapter  Eighteenth — Back  to  North  Carolina 430 

Appendix 459 


THREE  YEARS  IN  BATTLE 

AND 

THREE  IN  FEDERAL  PRISONS 


CHAPTER  TWELFTH 


Marion  and  Raleigh 
Marion,  McDowell  Co.,  N.  C,  August  22nd,  1871. 

Again  I  write  from  the  interior  of  a  filthy  and  crowd- 
ed cage!  Again  my  theme  is  of  shameful  ill-treatment, 
undeserved,  unprovoked,  unnecessary,  barbarous!  But 
let  me  in  calm  dispassionateness  the  tale  unfold — the 
truth  set  down!  My  suspicions  on  Saturday  evening 
that  some  unusual  movement  was  on  foot  among  the 
Mongrels  proved  to  have  been  much  better  founded 
than  I  had  any  conception.  It  seems  that  in  the  very 
face  of  declarations  that  we  were  not  to  be  removed  un- 
til September,  together  with  assurances  that  we  should 
have  "two  or  three  days'  notice"  before  any  movement, 
the  Mongrels  were  planning  to  drag  us  away  within  a 
few  hours,  and  upon  less  than  20  minutes'  notice!  To 
be  sure  we  deserve  the  discomfort  occasioned  by  it,  as 
a  lesson  for  our  silliness  in  believing  anything  the  crea- 
tures pretended  to  assert.  Of  course  they  had  no  idea 
of  giving  us  notice.  All  the  day  on  Saturday  the  ar- 
rangements for  our  removal  were  being  made;  guards 
summoned,  wagons  ordered,  shackles  procured,  etc.,  yet 
not  a  hint  of  it  was  permitted  to  reach  us,  although  it 
was  well  known  we  were  unprepared  for  any  such  sud- 
den departure,  and  were  relying  on  their  assurances  of 
"ample  notice."  Nearly  every  one  had  sent  home  his 
clothing  to  be  washed;  none  of  us  were  provided  with 
money,  travelling  satchels,  or  any  of  the  small  articles 
of  daily  need  and  comfort,  which  we  designed  taking 
with  us  when  we  transferred  to  the  distant  place  of  trial ; 
for  Raleigh  is  as  much  out  of  communication  with 


2  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Rutherfordton  as  with  Richmond  and  Baltimore.  But 
let  that  pass. 

On  Sunday  morning,  the  20th,  after  the  dirty  dish- 
pan  of  boiled  potatoes  had  been  introduced  into  the 
usual  greasy  section  of  the  floor,  and  the  motley  crowd 
were  huddled  around  it,  about  to  begin  breakfast,  Andy 
Scoggins  threw  open  the  door,  and  shouted,  "Shotwell, 
Cooley,  Sweezy,  and  Padgett — get  ready  to  start  for 
Marion,  in  ten  minutes!"  Imagine  our  dismay!  We 
were  taken  totally  by  surprise;  hence  in  utter  unreadi- 
ness! I  had  no  means  of  even  returning  the  borrowed 
books,  magazines,  kindly  sent  me  by  lady  friends.  I 
could  not  so  much  as  notify  my  father,  and  sister-in- 
law,  that  I  was  about  to  be  borne  away — perhaps  never 
to  return ;  though  on  second  thought  I  should  have  been 
pleased,  for  their  sakes,  if  they  had  known  nothing  of 
it  all  until  we  were  afar  away,  and  the  trying  spectacle 
of  our  removal  unwitnessed  by  them. 

The  ten  minutes  were  scarce  elapsed  when  the  tramp 
of  a  gang  of  men  was  audible  in  the  ante-chamber,  ac- 
companied by  an  ominous  clanking  of  chains!  John 
Cooley  was  first  called  out;  then  Sweezy;  then  Isaac 
Padgett ;  lastly  myself.  Each  as  he  left  the  larger  room 
bade  a  sad,  but  excited  adieu  to  his  fellow  prisoners  of 
the  past  two  months,  and  there  were  almost  tears  in  many 
eyes.  On  emerging  into  the  box-like  ante-room,  I  beheld 
a  spectacle  unparalleled  in  cowardly  brutality  as  yet  even 
in  the  annals  of  Mongrel  Man-Hunting.  Forming  a 
circle  were  half  a  dozen  guards:  Jim,  Joe,  or  Bill 
Scoggins,  Hodges,  Callahan,  McArthur,  et  al — all 
armed  with  seven-shooters.  Andy  Scoggins  acted  as 
Brute-in-Chief ;  being  assisted  by  a  big  black  negro, 
(Scoggins  was  white,  or  mulatto-colored)  named 
Charles  Bryan,  a  well  known  leader  in  the  Leagues.  In 
the  center  of  the  group  were  Brother  Addie,  Will  G. 
Edgerton,  and  the  three  who  had  preceded  me,  all  with 
their  wrists  handcuffed  to  a  chain!  Stop  a  moment! 
and  reflect  that  these  were  all  young  men  of  known 
respectability,  who  had  never  given  any  trouble,  never 
attempted  to  escape,  and  were  not  criminals,  nor  even 
charged  with  the  more  serious  offenses,  had  never  been 


The  Shotwell  Papers  3 

allowed  an  examination,  or  any  chance  to  establish  their 
innocence,  but  after  two  months  of  torture  in  the  vilest 
of  prisons  were  now  chained  in  pairs  like  savage  dogs, 
or  desperate  slaves  en  route  for  the  mart. 

When  I  was  brought  out,  Addie's  indignation  got  the 
better  of  his  judgment  and  he  burst  out,  saying  that  it 
was  a  cowardly  act — a  piece  of  political  spite — that  the 
puppies  felt  very  big  in  being  able  to  handcuff  gentle- 
men. It  was  the  truth,  but  I  urged  him  to  be  silent,  as 
nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  talking  so  long  as  we  were  in 
their  power ;  for  of  course  they  would  be  very  brave  while 
dealing  with  helpless  prisoners.  Jim  Scoggins  veri- 
fied my  words  by  assailing  us  all  with  his  cowardly 
bluster  and  insolence,  saying  he  wasn't  afraid  of  any- 
body, "could  lick  ten  such  Rebels."  For  my  part,  on 
being  told  to  hold  out  my  wrist,  I  said,  "Sir,  I  cannot 
prevent  your  seizing  my  arm,  but  first  I  formally  pro- 
test against  this  outrage;  I  have  never  been  tried,  con- 
victed, or  otherwise  incurred  this  indignity.  Scoggins 
grasped  my  wrist,  and  the  negro  blacksmith  quickly  and 
roughly  riveted  around  them  the  rudest,  coarsest  pair  of 
shackles  I  ever  saw.  Thus  the  gang  was  made  up,  and 
six  decent  citizens  of  North  Carolina  stood,  chained  to- 
gether, and  surrounded  by  the  lowest  of  the  League 
leaders,  armed  and  insolent,  gloating  over  their  superior, 
but  unfortunate  victims.  At  this  moment  the  doors  of 
the  jail  room  were  opened  (the  outer  one)  and  as  all  the 
inmates  crowded  to  the  bars  to  look  at  us,  I  turned  to 
them  and  said,  "Men,  this  sight  shows  you  what  our 
enemies  would  do  with  every  true  Southerner  if  they 
could!  But  be  not  intimidated!  Time  will  bring  to 
all  of  us  an  opportunity!" 

This  speech  was  answered  by  murmurs  of  "We'll  re- 
member, We'll  see  it  out,  etc.,  etc.,"  whereupon  the 
Mongrels  hurried  us  down  the  dark  and  dirty  stairs. 

At  the  foot  of  the  staircase  on  the  ground  floor  there 
was  a  dense  gang  of  Mongrels  and  negroes,  filling  the 
hallway,  and  crowding  around  the  door.  All  the  low 
creatures  in  the  village  and  adjacent  country,  including 
the  drunken  strumpets  supported  by  several  of  the  most 
zealous  Mongrels,  were  assembled;  showing  that  they 


4  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

had  been  privately  notified,  as  it  was  too  early  for  them 
to  be  in  the  village  on  a  Sabbath  morning. 

I  cared  little  for  such  spectators,  but  my  feelings  were 
about  to  be  sorely  tried.  As  we  appeared  at  the  head  of 
the  staircase,  I  saw  father  entering  the  jail  door,  and 
forcing  his  way  through  the  throng  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  He  had  been  on  the  eve  of  starting  to  church 
to  hold  services  when  the  intelligence  reached  him  that 
his  sons  were  being  handcuffed,  like  felons,  to  be  borne 
away!  Naturally  by  the  time  he  could  walk  to  the  jail 
the  cowardly  deed  had  been  perpetrated;  but  the  sight 
of  us,  thus  chained,  threw  him  into  ungovernable  ex- 
citement ;  and  throwing  the  Mongrels  right  and  left,  he 
confronted  those  who  were  bringing  us  down,  denounc- 
ing and  protesting  against  the  outrage  in  the  sternest 
tones  I  ever  heard  him  use.  Indeed  he  barred  the  way, 
with  cane  uplifted,  until  I  could  drag  my  comrades 
down  the  steps,  and  beg  him  to  go  home:  that  all  this 
scene  was  a  delicious  treat  for  the  Mongrels;  that  they 
cared  nothing  for  his  denunciations,  whereas  the  com- 
motion was  paining  me,  etc.,  etc.  Finally  he  was  pre- 
vailed upon  to  walk  away  with  old  General  Bryan,  and 
others,  but  still  vehemently  denouncing  the  utterly  un- 
warrantable outrage.  I  made  haste  to  clamber  in  the 
wagon  with  the  others  in  order  to  get  out  of  his  sight 
as  speedily  as  possible,  as  I  knew  he  was  liable  to  an  apo- 
plectic attack — (hereditary) — and  I  feared  the  effect  of 
his  overwrought  feelings.  Had  he  dropped  lifeless  in 
the  base-born  crowd,  then  indeed  would  my  life  have 
been  ruined :  for  I  should  devote  my  years  be  they  many 
or  few  to  the  pursuit  of  vengeance! 

There  was  not  the  slightest  excuse  for  the  handcuff- 
ing. We  were  not  desperadoes.  We  were  not  even 
accused  of  capital  crimes.  We  had  never  been  ex- 
amined by  any  authority.  The  papers  authorizing  our 
arrest  were  never  seen  by  any  of  our  captors,  if  they 
ever  had  an  existence  anywhere.  We  had  never  been 
boisterous  or  unruly,  or  threatening.  There  were  fifty 
heavily  armed  guards  to  watch  sice  men;  besides  the 
scores  of  Mongrels,  Pukes,  and  witnesses,  riding  with 
the  train,  all  of  whom  were  armed,  and  ready  to  assist. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  5 

Moreover,  we  were  placed  in  low-covered  wagons,  with 
a  guard  at  each  end  absolutely  preventing  escape  had 
we  been  slippery  as  eels !  No  one  will  say  that  we  were 
chained  for  security;  it  was  merely  a  specimen  of  the 
Mongrel  malice  which  has  pursued  us  in  all  this  busi- 
ness !  This  was  shown  by  the  remark  of  John  M.  Allen, 
one  of  the  more  moderate  Loganites,  (He  runs  a  mill, 
and  a  miller  has  need  to  be  moderate. )  who  rode  up  by 
the  side  of  the  wagon,  and  said,  "Mr.  Shotwell  I  am 
sorry  to  see  this.  I  tried  to  persuade  'em  out  of  put- 
ting them  chains  on  you.  It  ain't  my  business,  but  I'm 
opposed  to  it."  "There  was  not  the  slightest  excuse 
for  it;  none  of  us  desire  to  escape,  unless  it  be  to  take 
revenge  on  the  men  who  have  maltreated  us,"  I  replied. 
"Yes,"  he  responded  in  a  rather  low  tone,  as  Cebern  L. 
Harris  and  Jay  Bird  Carpenter  rode  by,  feasting  their 
eyes  on  the  spectacle  of  six  better  men  chained  together 
in  the  bottom  of  a  wagon,  "Yes,  I  told  'em  you'uns 
wasn't  going  to  give  any  trouble,  and  I  offered  to  take 
you  to  Marion  by  myself  without  a  gun  or  a  guard!" 
It  is  due  John  Allen  to  say  that  he  made  these  state- 
ments in  the  presence  of  old  Scoggins,  the  wagon  driver. 
This  reminds  me  that  all  the  Scoggins  tribe  are  now  en- 
gaged in  skinning  the  government  and  people.  Nathan 
is  U.  S.  Commissioner,  Andy  is  U.  S.  Deputy  Marshal, 
Joe,  Bill,  and  Jim  are  either  "Deputies"  or  "Acting 
Deputies,"  and  the  old  man  drives  the  wagon  to  haul 
the  prisoners  unlawfully  seized  by  his  Man-Hunting 
sons.  Together  they  must  pocket  $50  per  day  as  their 
squeezing  from  the  government,  not  to  speak  of  private 
operations ! 

'Squire  Sweezy  has  just  called  my  attention  to  the 
remark  of  Allen  that  orders  had  been  issued  to  the 
guards  to  shoot  us  as  we  lay  in  the  wagon  if  there  were 
any  demonstration  to  rescue  us !  I  do  not  know  if  this 
be  true,  but  I  entirely  believe  it  to  be.  Confirmatory, 
Ike  Padgett  reminds  me  that  after  we  passed  Dobson's 
on  the  road,  two  shots  were  heard  some  distance  to  the 
right  (probably  hunters)  whereupon  the  drivers 
whipped  up  their  horses  and  consolidated  the  train, 
while  a  gang  of  guards  unslung  their  carbines,  and  rode 


6  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

near  our  wagons.  We  had  no  special  fear,  for  had  a 
rescue  been  attempted  and  a  single  volley  fired  at  the 
Mongrels,  every  man  of  them  would  have  fled  like  par- 
tridges. There  is  no  bravery  in  a  man  who  could  ill- 
treat  a  helpless  prisoner. 

The  spectacle  presented  by  our  cavalcade,  the  wagons, 
the  guards,  the  negroes  trotting  along  side,  the  long 
procession  of  lawyers  and  witnesses  in  buggies  and  on 
horseback,  was  a  strange  one  for  the  peaceful  Sabbath. 
Perhaps  there  were  similar  scenes  in  Virginia  during 
the  war,  when  Sunday  almost  faded  from  recollection 
as  a  day  of  rest  and  decent  demeanor.  But  the  excuse 
of  those  days  no  longer  exists  and  the  desecration  of 
today  might  have  been  easily  avoided.  It  would  have 
been  perfectly  easy  to  leave  Rutherfordton  at  dawn  on 
Monday,  and  reach  Marion  at  2  P.  M.  even  if  it  were 
not  well  known  that  Court  transacts  no  business  on 
Monday.  Probably  the  Mongrels  thought  there  would 
be  more  people  on  the  road  going  to  and  from  church 
on  Sunday,  to  see  us  than  on  other  days.  There  was 
little  likelihood  of  any  service  in  Rutherfordton  that 
day.  As  we  slowly  dragged  through  the  main  street, 
I  saw  not  a  single  front  door  or  window  open — all  the 
dwellings  seemed  tenantless — though  it  may  be  sus- 
pected that  more  than  one  pair  of  indignant  eyes  was 
peering  from  the  lattice  upon  the  shameful  procession. 

We  had  gone  about  seven  miles,  when  I  heard  the  rat- 
tle of  wheels  coming  at  Jehu  speed,  and  saw  father 
sitting  bolt  upright  in  his  buggy  and  looking  as  stern 
as  a  Roman  Senator.  Swiftly  passing  without  a  word, 
he  handed  me  a  package  of  linen  collars ;  as  I  had  been 
hurried  away  half  dressed.  When  he  was  gone  by, 
Andy  Scoggins  came  galloping  up,  and  demanded  the 
"secret  paper"  that  had  been  handed  me.  I  showed 
him  the  collars,  and  told  him  if  he  would  look  more  close- 
ly he  would  see  that  the  handcuffs  were  cutting  the  flesh 
of  our  wrists:  Edgerton's  especially  showing  blood! 
He  replied  indifferently,  "Oh!  I'll  fix  that  when  we  git 
to  a  blacksmith's  shop,"  as  if  it  were  a  small  matter  that 
we  were  tortured  at  every  jolt  of  the  wagon.  At  Hen- 
derson Weaver's,  where  a  brief  halt  was  made,  we  found 


The  Shotwell  Papers  7 

father  and  learned  that  his  object  in  going  to  Marion 
was  to  see  if  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  could  be  obtained 
from  Judge  Brooks,  who  was  expected  to  arrive  on 
Monday  to  hold  court.  I  could  see  no  probability  of 
success,  nor  of  advantage  at  this  stage  of  the  game,  for 
the  Mongrels  have  now  done  their  worst,  and  short  of 
shooting  me  in  the  back  can  descend  no  lower  in  their 
cowardly  brutality.  But  I  made  no  objection  to  fa- 
ther's views,  preferring  that  he  should  be  stirring  about, 
working  with  a  hopeful  spirit  rather  than  remaining 
shut  up  in  the  parsonage  study,  brooding  over  the  deso- 
lation and  outrage  which  has  come  upon  his  home.  At 
Weaver's,  the  ladies  were  kind  and  sympathetic,  though 
somewhat  timid  in  expressing  their  feelings,  as  nine- 
tenths  of  the  crowd  were  Mongrels,  and  old  Mr.  Wea- 
ver, one  of  the  most  respectable  and  well-doing  farmers 
in  the  region,  has  already  been  put  to  a  thousand  or 
twelve  hundred  dollars'  expense  for  turning  off  some 
of  his  negro  laborers  after  the  election. 

The  distance  from  Rutherfordton  to  Marion  is  some 
36  miles;  the  road  the  worst  imaginable.  It  passes 
through  the  Brindletown  region,  once  lively  with  gold 
miners;  now  barren  and  deserted,  rendered  even  more 
desolate  looking  by  the  red-mud  caves  on  the  hills,  and 
the  gravel  pits  everywhere  seen  among  the  briars  and 
laurels.  Frowning  mountain  cliffs,  and  dark  ravines, 
impenetrable  thickets  and  roaring  waterfalls,  add  to  the 
wild  loneliness  of  the  region;  and  in  many  places  the 
road  runs  directly  up  the  bed  of  streams  for  miles,  the 
horses  walking  in  water  over  fetlocks,  and  the  wagon 
jolting  from  innumerable  stones. 

As  we  were  chained  together  in  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon-bed,  with  no  springs  to  break  the  force  of  the 
jolting,  it  may  be  conceived  that  our  weariness  became 
very  trying  to  the  soul. 

After  passing  the  mountains  we  began  to  encounter 
large  groups  of  negroes  and  "poor  whites"  of  the  Mon- 
grel variety  assembled  at  every  cross  road,  blacksmithy, 
or  country  store.  In  some  places  as  many  as  40  persons 
were  posted  on  each  side  of  the  road  (an  old  woman 
with  a  yellow  sunbonnet  and  short  pipe,  generally  sit- 


8  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ting  upon  the  top  rail  of  the  fence)  and  all  eager  to  "see 
dem  Kluxes"  go  by!  for  it  appears  the  intelligence  was 
sent  ahead  in  order  that  the  Mongrels  might  enjoy  the 
spectacle.  Upon  no  other  hypothesis  can  the  general 
turnout  be  explained. 

In  the  dusk  of  evening  we  approached  Marion — a 
little  village  nestling  in  an  amphitheatre  of  mountains, 
and  which  might  have  been  expected  to  be  quiet  as  a  de- 
serted country  church  at  this  twilight  hour  on  Sabbath ; 
whereas  there  was  all  the  bustle  and  appearance  of  a 
large  military  encampment.  All  along  the  roads,  as 
seen  from  the  hilltop,  a  mile  from  town,  were  the  numer- 
ous camp-fires  of  families  bivouacking  around  their 
wagons.  Every  moment  new  trains  turned  off  from 
the  highway  into  the  bushes,  or  fields,  and  soon  had  a 
roaring  log  fire,  around  which  the  women  and  children 
huddled  while  the  men  attended  to  the  horses.  Here 
and  there  were  men  and  women  trudging  wearily  along 
on  foot,  with  blankets  on  their  backs,  and  their  food  in 
satchels.  The  noise,  cracking  of  whips,  barking  of 
dogs,  whistling,  calling,  and  uproar  of  rattling  wagons, 
composed  anything  but  a  peaceful  Sunday  evening 
scene ! 

These  wayfarers  were  citizens  under  indictment,  or 
summoned  as  witnesses,  all  coming  to  attend  the  so- 
called  Federal  Court.  Too  poor  to  pay  for  hotel  lodg- 
ings, they  are  obliged  to  bivouac  in  the  fields  around  the 
village  and  are  now  exposed  to  a  thunder  storm  as  I 
write.  Many  of  them  have  walked  for  upwards  of 
thirty-one-two-three  and  -four  miles,  and  through  the 
rough  region  of  which  I  have  spoken.  Hundreds  of 
them  have  travelled  all  day,  and  a  part  of  yesterday  to 
come  here  as  witnesses,  some  against,  but  the  majority 
in  favor  of  the  prisoners,  or  indicted.  And  this  is  the 
fourth  time  many  of  the  Rutherford  citizens  have  been 
dragged  to  one  point  and  another  to  save  their  friends 
or  relatives.  During  a  halt  upon  the  hill,  I  heard  this 
conversation  between  lawyer  Jos.  Carson  and  an  old 
woman,  who  was  seated  on  the  tongue  of  a  wagon  await- 
ing the  building  of  a  camp-fire,  for  which  a  grey-haired 
old  man  was  gathering  logs;  she  looked  worn  out,  and 


The  Shotwell  Papers  9 

heartbroken.  Mr.  Carson — "Why,  auntie,  you  are  get- 
ting to  be  a  regular  attender  of  courts ;  I  meet  you,  and 
the  old  man  wherever  I  go."  Old  Woman — "Yes, 
Mr.  Carson,  it  does  seem  like  a  body  would  never  git 
done  a-goin,  and  a-goin  an'  all  for  nothing.  But  our 
[boy]  ain't  got  nobody  but  us  ter  prove  he  wus  a  bed  ter 
home  that  night  of  the  lickin'  old  Pukey  Biggerstaff 
ketched.  And  we  had  to  go  along  to  Ruth'ferd,  an' 
then  to  Shelby,  an'  Cherryville,  and  then  here  once 
afore,  an'  now  agin,  an'  I  wus  just  a  tellin'  pappy 
[her  husband]  we  would  hev'  to  be  hauled  in  our  beds 
next  time,  fur  it  seems  like  [I]  would  just  lie  down, 
an'  die  ef  this  pullin'  and  a  haulin'  is  gwine  ter  go  on 
much  longer."  (Then  after  a  pause)  "And  I  reckon 
it  won't  stop  tell  them  Scoggins  get  all  the  money  in  the 
country." 

Such  is  the  persecution. 

Driving  to  the  little  two-story  brick- jail  in  Marion, 
Andy  Scoggins  marshalled  his  men,  taking  time  enough 
to  collect  a  large  crowd,  and  disembarked  us  from  the 
wagons.  I  heard  a  voice  say :  "Isn't  that  a  d — d  piece  of 
villainy;  the  rogues  chaining  decent  men?"  Whereupon 
another  voice  said :  "Dont  talk  so  loud!  They'll  have  us 
all  in  jail  if  they  can  make  an  excuse"  We  were 
marched  up-stairs  into  the  room  we  at  present  occupy; 
a  small,  low  ceiled  apartment  with  three  windows.  It 
is  only  about  ten  feet  square  and  as  filthy  as  a  pig-sty. 
In  the  centre  and  occupying  most  of  the  room  is  a  rusty 
old  cage,  similar  to  the  one  at  Rutherford,  but  smaller, 
and  filthier;  besides  having  only  a  partial  flooring.  It 
seemed  incredible  that  any  man  would  think  of  crowding 
even  four  men  into  such  a  place;  but  Scoggins  marched 
in  the  entire  seven,  in  addition  to  an  occupant  placed 
here  by  the  McDowell  County  authorities  for  stealing. 
His  name  is  Sheehan,  and  he  is  said  to  spend  the  greater 
portion  of  his  time  in  jail.  His  presence  was  a  severe 
infliction  from  the  first,  as  his  personal  habits  are  un- 
clean to  the  last  degree,  and  his  slovenliness  had  filled 
the  cage  with  filth,  decayed  vegetables,  bones,  etc.,  cre- 
ating a  sickening  stench,  and  curtailing  the  surface  for 
spreading  our  bedding  to  one-tenth  the  requisite  allow- 


10  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ance.  My  comrades  kindly  allowed  me  choice  of  space, 
but  it  is  so  uncomfortable  for  all  that  few  of  us  can 
sleep  more  than  an  hour  or  so. 

On  being  forced  into  the  cage  we  were  still  handcuffed 
together,  and,  as  the  rivets  had  been  hammered  tightly 
by  the  negro  blacksmith,  part  of  the  irons  only  were  re- 
moved! (These  shackles  were  not  the  modern  kind 
which  lock  with  a  key,  but  were  riveted  around  our 
wrists,  cutting  the  flesh  with  their  rough  edges ) .  My 
wrists  are  still  raw  and  sore. 

Of  course  there  was  a  large  crowd  of  Mongrels  to  wit- 
ness the  spectacle  of  our  incarceration.  I  very  foolishly 
asked  one  of  them  if  he  would  do  me  the  favor  to  send 
Col.  Carrow,  the  United  States  Marshal  for  North  Car- 
olina, to  see  me,  as  I  had  heard  he  was  a  humane  man, 
and  hoped  he  would  at  least  allow  us  the  liberty  of  the 
room,  as  we  must  surely  suffocate  in  the  crowded  cage. 
The  fellow  grinned,  but  departed  ostensibly  to  inform 
Carrow,  who  I  need  scarcely  say  did  not  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  my  request.  Bro.  Addie,  also,  asked  for  the 
use  of  a  candle — "just  two  minutes" — to  see  what  sort 
of  filth  we  were  to  sleep  upon,  but  was  denied  it.  So 
we  sat,  or  squatted,  in  the  darkness,  while  Sweezy  and 

tugged    and   rattled    their    chains    trying    to    get 

free  from  them;  which  they  finally  accomplished  with 
some  sacrifice  of  the  skin  of  their  hands. 

At  length  "supper,"  so-called,  was  fetched  in;  a  large 
platter  of  cold  "string"  or  "snap"  beans,  and  some  bits 
of  corn  bread!  Neither  "meat  nor  drink"  of  any  kind! 
And,  will  it  be  believed,  this  musty  stuff  was  not  passed 
into  the  cage,  as  could  have  been  done  in  a  second,  but 
was  placed  on  a  bench  outside  the  cage,  compelling 
those  whose  hunger  forced  them  to  it,  to  claw  their  food 
through  the  narrow  holes  between  the  latticed  bars,  like 
monkeys  snatching  chestnuts  from  outside  pans  in  a 
menagerie.  I  went  supperless  to  bed — Bah!  to  a  six- 
inch  wide  strip  of  dirty  plank. 

Finally  the  little  poodle  of  a  jailer  slipped  around  to 
a  corner  of  the  cage,  and  whispered  in  my  ear  that  he 
was  "All  right" — hoped  "the  boys  wouldn't  cause  any 
trouble" — anyhow  he  was  "all  right,  and  "would  treat 


The  Shotwell  Papers  11 

us  right."  I  told  him  if  he  had  any  such  intentions  it 
was  about  time  to  begin  to  manifest  them ;  that  we  were 
gentlemen,  not  desperados,  and  it  was  cowardly  to  cage 
us  in  this  way,  and  not  even  allow  us  to  eat  our  food 
decently.  He  replied  that  we  were  "United  States 
prisoners,"  and  "Colonel"  Scoggins  (That's  the  tin- 
peddler  on  horse  back!)  made  him  do  it,  etc.,  but  he 
would  hereafter  try,  and  give  our  meals  inside ! 

Yesterday  (Monday)  the  Mongrels  flocked  in  from 
dawn  till  dusk  to  gloat  over  the  sight  of  half  a  dozen 
gentlemen  locked  in  a  cage  with  a  professional  thief. 
But  they  turned  back  quite  a  number  of  our  friends  who 
desired  to  call  upon  us.  Father,  himself,  was  twice 
turned  back  on  various  pretexts.  He  looked  sadly  care- 
worn but  is  busy  with  the  lawyers.  He  is  a  guest  of 
Ma j .  Neal,  whose  good  lady  has  sent  a  tray  of  delicacies 
to  brother  and  me,  yesterday  and  today.  We,  of  course, 
divided  with  our  comrades. 

The  jail  is  now  surrounded  by  50  Yankee  soldiers. 

5  P.  M.  We  fancied  that  we  had  seen  the  worst  in 
the  way  of  ill  treatment  but  our  present  experience  is 
going  somewhat  ahead  of  even  Rutherford  "Black 
Hole."  This  afternoon  five  young  fellows  charged  with 
violation  of  revenue  laws  in  one  of  the  trans-mountain 
counties  were  brought  up  from  Raleigh,  and  placed  in 
the  same  room  with  us.  But  they  enjoy  10  per  cent 
more  liberty  than  we  as  they  are  outside  of  the  cage, 
and  can  go  to  the  windows,  and  talk  with  their  friends 
outside.  Unfortunately  their  privileges  work  to  our 
detriment ;  they  huddle  at  the  window  two  in  each,  and 
thus  cut  off  every  breath  of  air  we  occasionally  caught 
from  that  source.  And  the  young  fellows  care  nothing 
for  our  sufferings.  They  are  all  ignorant,  uncouth 
mountaineers ;  as  will  appear  from  the  fact  that  three  of 
them  are  very  proud  of  a  coarse  pair  of  breeches  given 
them  by  the  Federal  authorities  at  Raleigh,  and  de- 
clare they  are  ever  so  anxious  to  "git  home  an'  show 
my  new  rig."  The  clothing  is  worth  about  ten  dollars 
a  cart  load! 

August  23rd,  I  have  just  had  a  secret  note  which 
explains  the  presence  of  the  blue-coats.   They  came  up 


12  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

as  a  body-guard  for  Judge  G.  W.  Brooks,  of  the  U.  S. 
Dist.  Court,  who  arrived  on  Monday!  Was  anything 
so  absurd  ever  before  heard!  The  facts  are  as  follows: 
On  Saturday  evening  Capt.  R.  E.  Wilson,  a  one-armed 
Confederate,  learning  that  U.  S.  District  Attorney  Star- 
buck,  a  North  Carolina  Scalawag,  was  in  the  city,  called 
at  his  room  in  the  hotel  and  demanded  satisfaction  for 
certain  personal  grievances;  telling  Starbuck  he  must 
make  an  apology  or  settle  the  long-standing  difficulty 
then  and  there  within  locked  doors.  Starbuck  made 
some  excuse,  but  said  he  would  attend  to  the  matter 
next  morning  (Sunday)  at  8  o'clock.  But  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour,  he  was  half  a  mile  away,  impatiently 
awaiting  the  train.  Capt.  Wilson,  accompanied  by  his 
friends,  "Bull"  Mitchell,  and  W.  Beard,  hastened  to 
the  depot,  and  denounced  Starbuck  for  his  conduct. 
Blows  passed,  and,  of  course,  Messrs.  Mitchell  and 
Beard  interferred,  whereupon  Judge  Brooks,  and  Lar- 
kins  his  clerk,  fell  upon  the  two  young  men  with  sticks 
and  clubs  in  an  outrageous  manner.  Judge  Brooks  who 
was  not  molested,  or  even  insulted,  attacked  Mr.  Beard, 
and  broke  his  heavy  gold-headed  cane  over  the  young 
man's  head,  while  the  latter  was  not  expecting  the  un- 
provoked assault!  By  this  interference,  the  five  arms 
were  exposed  to  six  arms,  and  a  cane ;  but  Starbuck  and 
Larkins  caught  a  good  drubbing,  and  Brooks  lost  his 
cane,  his  spectacles,  and  studs — besides  his  dignity,  and 
reputation  for  fair-mindedness,  won  during  the  Holden 
and  Kirk  war. 

As  soon  as  the  crowd  interfered,  and  stopped  the  row, 
the  Judge  spluttered  furiously  about  "Ku  Klux  at- 
tacks," and  telegraphed  for  a  regiment  of  Yankees  to 
"guard  his  court,"  though  he  knew  there  was  not  the 
least  need  of  them,  or  if  there  had  been — the  army  of 
"U.  S.  deputy  marshals"  would  have  sufficed  to  guard 
the  court  against  a  thousand  Klans !  But  thus  it  goes ! 
Every  excuse,  every  private  fracas,  is  magnified  into 
the  plea  for  "more  troops!!"  "more  soldiers!!"  "more 
men  and  more  money!!" 

The  arrival  of  the  military,  however,  has  been  a  bene- 
fit to  us  prisoners  from  a  personal  point  of  view,  as 


The  Shotwell  Papers  13 

they  have  been  just  stationed  as  guards  at  the  jail,  both 
outside  and  within;  relieving  the  Mongrels  of  the  duty, 
and  relieving  us  of  their  disagreeable  presence.  Not 
one  of  us  but  would  prefer  to  be  watched  by  Yankees 
rather  than  the  base-born  renegades  who  have  treated 
us  so  barbarously.  In  fact  I  have  always  preferred 
a  straight  out  Northerner  to  the  Mongrel  renegades. 
The  soldiers  are  much  more  decent,  and  treat  us  more 
decently.  The  Yankee  at  the  present  moment  on  guard 
at  the  door  is  very  friendly  and  says  he  has  no  sort  of 
sympathy  with  men  who  could  shut  us  up  here. 

In  order  not  to  do  injustice  I  here  add  the  account  of 
the  Salisbury  fracas  as  recorded  in  the  Examiner  of  that 
city,  whose  editor  is  an  old  citizen  not  at  all  in  sympathy 
with  the  Klan,  and  who  wrote  with  the  facts  fresh  in  his 
mind.  No  denial  of  the  following  account  has  been  made 
so  far  as  I  can  learn. 

There  was  an  old  grudge  existing  between  Capt. 
R.  E.  Wilson  and  Mr.  District  Attorney  Starbuck. 
Capt.  Wilson  had  long  felt  aggrieved  by  Mr.  Star- 
buck's  persistent  and  repeated  persecutions,  and 
had  the  previous  evening  called  on  him  to  bring 
about  a  settlement.  This  Mr.  Starbuck  refused; 
but  told  the  Captain  that  he  would  attend  to  the 
matter  the  succeeding  morning  (Sunday)  at  8 
o'clock.  On  Sunday  morning  Capt.  Wilson,  ac- 
companied by  a  friend,  again  called  at  Mr.  Star- 
buck's  room  at  the  appointed  hour,  but  found  no 
one  in.  As  it  was  known  that  Mr.  Starbuck  would 
leave  on  the  western  train  for  Marion  that  morning, 
the  Capt.  entered  the  omnibus  and  proceeded  to 
the  depot.  On  the  way,  Judge  Brooks  and  Mr. 
Starbuck  got  in  the  omnibus.  The  party  then  con- 
sisted of  Capt.  R.  E.  Wilson,  Mr.  W.  Beard,  Mr. 
Luico  Mitchell,  Mr.  Larkins,  U.  S.  D.  Court  Clerk, 
Mr.  Starbuck,  and  Judge  Brooks,  and  perhaps  one 
or  two  others.  On  arriving  at  the  depot,  Capt. 
Wilson  reminded  Mr.  Starbuck  of  his  promise  made 
on  the  previous  evening  to  settle  the  old  difficulty, 
when  some  words  passed  and  finally  blows.  Then 
were  drawn  in  Mr.  Beard,  Mr.  Larkins  and  Judge 


14  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Brooks,  respectively.  There  were  very  few  per- 
sons at  the  depot,  and  consequently,  some  of  the 
parties  (Mr.  Starbuck,  Mr.  Larkins,  and  Mr. 
Beard)  were  considerably  bruised  before  they  could 
be  separated,  Mr.  Beard  being  severely  hurt  by 
the  blows  inflicted  by  Judge  Brooks,  who  had  furi- 
ously attacked  him  with  his  gold-headed  cane,  which 
he  broke  to  pieces — a  great  loss.  It  should  be 
borne  in  mind  that  Judge  Brooks  was  not  struck, 
not  a  hand  being  uplifted  against  him  except  to 
get  him  out  of  the  way,  notwithstanding  his  dis- 
graceful attack  upon  Mr.  Beard.  No  one  intend- 
ed any  indignity  to  or  wished  to  hurt  the  Judge, 
though  his  undignified  temerity  cost  him  a  valuable 
cane  and  a  gold  stud  from  his  shirt  collar. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  the  whole  affair  grew  out 
of  an  old  unsettled  difficulty  between  Capt.  Wilson 
and  Mr.  District  Attorney  Starbuck ;  and  was  sim- 
ply an  affray ,  and  the  parties  to  it  amenable  to  the 
Municipal  and  State  laws  for  this  breach  of  the 
peace.  And  why,  we  would  most  respectfully  ask, 
were  not  each  and  all  arrested  and  bound  over  to 
Court?  This  should  have  been  done  at  all  hazards. 
Has  the  power  to  keep  the  peace  been  taken  from 
our  Municipal  and  State  functionaries?  Or  has 
timidity  taken  possession  of  their  souls?  If  they 
have  been  deprived  of  the  power  to  perform  a  plain, 
and,  in  better  days,  an  imperative  duty,  then,  they 
should  no  longer  attempt  to  keep  up  appearances, 
but  throw  up  their  commissions,  and  submit,  at  the 
advice  of  the  timid,  to  whatever  breaches  of  the 
peace  may  befall  us.  How  humiliating  the  spec- 
tacle ! 

Our  people  generally  entertain  a  high  regard  for 
Judge  Brooks,  but  they  are  almost  unanimous  in 
their  condemnation  of  his  course  in  this  matter. 
The  Judge  is  a  sworn  officer  of  the  law — a  conser- 
vator, and  should  not  be  a  disturber  of  the  peace. 
To  say  the  least,  it  was  very  undignified  for  him  to 
take  part  in  a  street  fight. 

Again,    it   is   generally   conceded,    as   this   was 


The  Shotwell  Papkrs  15 

merely  an  ordinary  affray  of  which  the  State  Courts 
alone  have  jurisdiction,  that  the  conduct  of  the 
Judge  in  binding  three  of  the  combatants  over  to 
the  Federal  Court  and  allowing  the  others  to  go 
scot  free,  is  arbitrary  and  unjust. 

The  Judge  himself  was  not  exempt  from  arrest. 
He  took  part  in  an  affray,  he  used  an  unlawful 
weapon,  he  is  guilty  and  is  amenable  to  the  offended 
law — no  matter  if  he  was  about  to  start  to  his  Court. 
Judges,  Jurors,  Members  of  Congress,  and  Legis- 
lators, are  protected  against  civil  processes,  while 
on  their  way  to  duty;  but  suppose  one  of  these, 
while  en  route  to  his  place  of  business  get  into  an 
affray  and  kill  a  man,  will  any  one  say  that  he  is 
exempt  from  arrest?  There  is  a  distinction  made 
in  the  laws  with  regard  to  such  cases,  and  this  is  not 
in  favor  of  Judge  Brooks. 

The  whole  matter  is  deeply  deplored  by  our  citi- 
zens, and  it  is  believed  that  Judge  Brooks,  after 
the  excitement  under  which  he  seems  to  have  been 
laboring,  will  release  the  gentlemen  whom  he  has 
placed  under  arrest. — [Salisbury  Examiner.} 

Basket  with  very  acceptable  delicacies,  dinner,  etc., 
from  Miss  N.  and  Mrs.  R. 

August  24ih.  Having  received  no  answer  from  my 
verbal  message,  I  today  addressed  a  formal  note  to  Col. 
S.  T.  Carrow,  U.  S.  Marshal  for  North  Carolina,  re- 
questing him  to  call  at  the  jail  (just  across  the  street 
from  his  hotel)  that  I  might  explain  to  him  our  terri- 
ble situation.  All  the  day  yesterday  I  awaited  his  com- 
ing, but  there  was  a  political  meeting,  and  he  made  a 
very  violent,  and  abusive  speech,  from  the  steps  of  the 
Court  House,  but  paid  no  attention  to  my  appeal — for 
it  was  in  the  nature  of  an  appeal.  Today  I  addressed  a 
note  to  the  commander  of  the  troops  in  whose  keeping 
we  are,  and  he  was  enough  of  the  gentleman  to  reply 
that  he  had  no  authority  to  make  any  change  in  our 
situation,  but  would  personally  wait  upon  Col.  Carrow 
to  ask  an  examination  of  the  matter. 

This  evening  Carrow  came  swaggering  in,  accom- 
panied by  all  the  Scogginses,  the  other  Mongrel  deputies, 


16  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  a  crowd  of  his  followers,  who  filled  the  room,  and 
crowded  around  the  cage  until  we  seemed  shut  up  in  a 
vault — one  of  those  hectacombs,  which  run  underground 
throughout  all  Paris,  and  are  walled  up  with  rows  of 
grinning  skulls !  C arrow  waited  until  all  his  gang  were 
in  position,  then  asked  what  I  wanted  with  him. 

"Sir,"  I  replied,  "if  you  will  observe  for  yourself  you 
will  see  that  we  are  undergoing  unnecessary  and  out- 
rageous tortures  for  lack  of  room,  of  air,  of  food  and 
water — yes,  even  sleep,  for  we  cannot  sleep,  packed  as 
we  are,  eight  grown  men  in  this  small  space!" 

Carrow  began  to  mumble  that  he  always  treated  his 
prisoners  well;  that  no  man  could  say  he  was  hard  on 
prisoners,  etc.,  etc. 

"Throw  open  the  door!"  he  cried,  in  ore  rotundo 
voice,  to  the  "caitiff"  who  handles  the  keys,  and  who  now 
began  to  bustle  about  to  bring  water,  and  remove  the 
slops.  Carrow  entered,  and  expressed  surprise  at  see- 
ing young  men  of  our  appearance  in  such  a  place.  I 
replied  that  it  was  through  no  fault  of  our  own;  but 
that  I  had  asked  him  to  come  that  he  might  learn  by 
ocular,  and  odorous  demonstration  how  abominably  we 
were  treated.  All  I  asked  was  the  poor  privilege  of 
being  allowed  the  use  of  the  entire  room,  so  that  we 
could  get  near  the  windows,  and  escape  the  stench  of 
the  foul  cage,  and  the  fouler  bucket  placed  outside  the 
cage — too  indecent  to  relate  here!  I  pointed  out  that 
as  there  was  a  Federal  soldier  on  guard  inside  the  door, 
and  a  squad  of  them  in  the  room  opposite,  and  a  regular 
guard  all  around  the  jail,  there  was  not  the  least  chance 
for  escape;  therefore  this  confinement  in  the  cage  was 
altogether  unnecessary  even  from  his  point  of  view. 

"Desparate  cases  require  desparate  remedies,"  he  re- 
plied, with  a  look  at  his  followers  and  deputies  which 
resulted  in  a  snicker.  He  then  began  to  say  that  we 
ought  to  be  ashamed,  that  we  had  ruled  it  over  Ruther- 
ford, making  good  men  live  in  terror  of  their  lives,  etc. 
But  I  interrupted  him,  saying  he  was  uttering  that 
which  was  not  the  fact ;  and  he  had  no  right  to  hector  us 
as  criminals,  when  as  yet  we  had  never  had  any  sort  of 


The  Shotwell  Papers  17 

examination,  or  any  opportunity  to  face  our  accusers, 
etc. 

He  then  launched  into  a  stump  speech — recalling,  no 
doubt,  his  declamation  of  the  previous  day — supposing, 
I  suppose,  that  it  would  be  a  good  time  to  "show  off" 
before  his  mountain  deputies.  Referring  to  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Order,  who  have  left  the  region,  he  burst 
forth  in  more  of  the  rotundo — "Yes,  and  you  too  no 
doubt  think  you  will  escape,  but  I  tell  you,  sirs,  the 
country  is  aroused — the  government  is  aroused ! — its  eye 
is  upon  you ! — you  cannot  escape ! — flee  though  you  may 
to  the  frozen  snows  of  Canada,  or  the  waving  chapparal 
of  Mexico — the  omniscient  eye  of  the  government  will 
search  you  out — and  the  strong  right  arm  [Carrow  and 
company — I  suppose]  will  drag  you  back  to  the  bar  of 
retributive  justice!"  Whereupon  he  swelled  after  the 
fashion  of  a  toad  with  a  goose-egg  in  its  belly,  and  his 
henchmen  applauded. 

To  say  that  I  was  disgusted  with  this  senseless  dia- 
tribe from  a  man  who  knew  nothing  of  our  cases  save 
by  hearsay,  and  who  had  no  right  to  inflict  the  additional 
torture  of  his  speech  upon  us,  even  had  we  been  deep- 
dyed  assassins,  will  hardly  be  necessary.  Yet,  as  I  had 
heard  him  spoken  of  as  a  kindly  dispositioned  man,  and 
had  hopes  of  his  alleviating  our  condition,  I  repressed 
my  indignation,  and  even  assumed  a  conversational 
tone  with  him — much  to  my  after  disgust. 

Carrow  now  ordered  us  to  strip  off  our  clothing,  that 
he  might  search  our  persons,  saying  he  understood  we 
had  concealed   weapons!   It   seems   he   had   employed 

the  Revenue  defrauders  (the  five  young  men  from 

county)  who  were  outside  the  cage,  to  watch  us,  and 
they  spied  Edgerton's  knife  which  chanced  to  drop  from 
his  pocket.  Edgerton  handed  over  the  knife ;  but  Car- 
row  caused  two  or  three  of  the  men  to  strip.  I  told  him 
he  could  examine  my  pockets  if  he  desired  to  do  so,  but 
I  did  not  propose  to  be  stripped  for  the  amusement  of 
his  crowd,  unless  overpowered  by  brute  force.  He 
therefore  contented  himself  with  feeling  in  my  pockets, 
and  around  my  waist-belt,  and  in  the  tops  of  my  shoes ! 
Shame  upon  the  cowards!     All  this  was  done —  not  to 

North  Carolina  State  Library 
Raleigh 


18  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

make  sure  of  our  having  no  weapons — for  he  did  not 
examine  our  baggage,  did  not  look  beneath  the  loose 
boards  of  the  flooring,  where  one  knife  was  hidden,  and 
500  might  have  been,  nor  did  he  really  care  if  we  had 
a  peck  of  knives,  as  he  had  no  intention  of  releasing  us 
from  the  cage,  and  even  had  he  so  released  us,  our 
knives  could  have  been  of  no  avail  against  the  bayonets 
and  revolvers  of  50  armed  Yankees ! 

Oh!  fool  that  I  was  to  be  deceived  by  his  promises  of 
"I'll  treat  you  well;  I  always  treat  my  prisoners  well!" 
and  allow  him  to  leave  the  cage  without  telling  him  how 
rascally  he  had  already  treated  us,  for  he  is  responsible 
for  every  rascality  of  his  agents  or  "deputies!" 

Well,  I  accidentally  obtained  one  important  admission 
from  him.  He  remarked  that  the  jail  was  rather  small 
for  so  many  prisoners,  but  he  didn't  build  it,  and  could 
not  enlarge  it.  I  then  asked — "Why  then,  do  you  not 
remove  us  to  Raleigh,  where  you  say  there  is  plenty  of 
room?"  He  replied,  "Well,  you  see,  I  can't  move  you 
for  a  day  or  two ;  the  papers  in  your  case  aint  come  yet; 
but  I  sent  a  man  after  'em,  and  he'll  be  back  termorrer, 
or  newt  day."  Innocently  I  further  asked,  "I  suppose 
you  are  sure  you  have  them?"  "Oh  yes,  I  have  them 
down  at  Raleigh.  I,  some  way,  mislaid  them — but 
they'll  be  here  all  right  tomorrow."  Then  I  said  with 
raised  voice,  "So  it  seems  I  have  been  arrested,  held  for 
more  than  two  months — caged  like  a  felon — dragged 
here  in  handcuffs — while  the  capias  for  my  arrest  is  still 
at  Raleigh,  250  miles  away!"  "Desparate  cases,  you 
know,"  said  Carrow,  backing  out  of  the  cage,  and  going 
off,  laughing  and  chuckling! 

Of  course  not  a  particle  of  change  has  been  made  in 
our  situation,  and  as  I  write  these  lines  I  occasionally 
must  stop  to  catch  breath,  for  the  atmosphere  is  sultry 
and  fetid  in  suffocating  degree.  Think  of  eight  grown 
men,  packed  in  an  iron  cage — with  five  other  men  filling 
the  three  small,  latticed  windows  outside  of  the  cage,  and 
the  whole  surroundings  so  filthy  that  constant  stench 
pervades  the  small  quantity  of  air  circulating  on  this 
sultry  evening! 

Mrs.  Col.  H — s,  kindly  remembers  us  with  a  waiter  of 


The  Shotwell  Papers  19 

supper,  and  Maj.  Malone  sends  a  number  of  news- 
papers which  I  am  very  glad  to  get. 

August  25th.  Capt.  Plato  Durham,  and  Maj.  A.  C. 
Avery,  "Brethren  of  High  Degree,"  came  up  about 
dusk  last  evening,  and  chatted  a  few  moments,  though 
there  were  scores  of  spies  also  hanging  around  to  catch 
some  word  of  "contraband"  confab!  Bah!  the  Mon- 
grels imagine  we  are  all  on  the  Guy  Fawkes,  dark 
lantern,  gunpowder  plot  order,  continually  making 
secret  signs,  and  scheming  to  put  "cold  pi-sin"  in  their 
cups. 

Father  has  just  been  up  with  Col.  Burgess  S.  Gaither, 
who,  in  conjunction  with  other  lawyers  attending  the 
Federal  Court,  has  drawn  a  petition  for  the  writ  of 
habeas  corpus  for  Bro.  Addie,  and  I,  to  be  presented 
to  Judge  Brooks.  We  signed  the  petition;  though  only 
because  father  wished  it,  and  to  show  how  maliciously 
the  Mongrels  are  acting  toward  us.  It  is  openly  boast- 
ed by  the  Scoggins  gang  that  if  Judge  Brooks  should 
grant  the  writ  they  will  re-arrest  me  on  other  charges, 
and  continue  to  do  so  until  there  is  "not  enough  prop- 
erty in  Western  North  Carolina  to  go  bail."  For  my 
part,  I  have  reached  the  point  where  I  am  superior  to 
all  the  tortures  my  foes  may  inflict.  And  as  for  asking 
any  man  to  go  as  my  surety,  I  shall  never  even  hint  such 
a  thing  no  matter  if  I  die  in  this  cage.  If  my  friends 
are  disposed  to  go  upon  my  bail-bond  they  will  not 
need  to  be  asked  to  do  so;  and  if  they  are  not  so  dis- 
posed; I  am  too  proud  to  ask  it  as  a  favor. 

Mrs.  Maj.  Neal  sends  welcome  reminder  that  all 
men  are  human,  and  have  an  "inner  man,"  whose  fond- 
ness for  good  living  is  remarkable.  Mrs.  Maggie  has 
shown  a  real  interest  and  sympathy  which  Bro.  and  I 
can  never  forget.  Indeed  the  ladies  of  Marion  have 
all  been  exceedingly  kind;  at  least  all  of  whom  I  have 
any  knowledge.  Their  kindness  is  the  more  to  be  prized, 
because  it  manifests  itself  spontaneously  and  in  practi- 
cal alleviation  of  the  needs  of  young  men,  with  none 
of  whom  they  are  personally  acquainted,  unless  I  ex- 
cept a  few  acquaintances  of  Bro.  Addie's.  The  food 
sent  to  us,  we  divide  equally  among  our  five  fellow- 


20  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

prisoners,  hence  the  whole  party  of  seven  are  made  glad 
thereby. 

August  26th.  Judge  Brooks,  after  hearing  Col.  Gai- 
ther's  argument  in  Chambers,  refused  to  grant  the  writ 
of  habeas  corpus,  but  ordered  the  Marshal  to  admit 
us  to  bail  in  the  sum  of  six  thousand  dollars — $2,000, 
and  $4,000!  We  thank  him  for  nothing!  It  is  adding 
insult  to  injury  to  grant  us  at  the  last  moment,  after 
keeping  us  in  cages  and  handcuffs,  for  two  months,  and 
dragging  us  40  miles  from  home  into  a  strange  com- 
munity, to  at  length  offer  us  the  privilege  of  giving 
enormous  bail — merely  to  release  the  government  of 
the  expense  of  carrying  us  to  Raleigh.  I  don't  think 
I  would  accept  it  now,  if  my  friends  were  to  come  in 
troops.  But  there  is  no  danger  of  that.  The  Federal 
Court  adjourned  today,  and  nearly  all  the  Rutherford 
people  started  home  yesterday  afternoon.  Some  of  the 
Mongrels  came  in  just  now  to  bid  us  good  by.  Hodges 
and  Callahan  looked  ashamed,  and  offered  me  their 
hands,  which  I  took;  for  I  could  not  be  rude  to  them. 
Capt.  Huff  master  of  Rutherford  ran  in  just  now 
with  a  gallon  of  brandy  which  he  and  other  friends  de- 
sired to  leave  with  us  in  case  we  should  become  thirsty. 
The  whole  party  were  seized  with  sudden  thirst  in- 
cluding the  guards  (Yankees)  who  indulged  in  sundry 
remarks  not  complimentary  to  the  Mongrels. 

All  the  lawyers  and  Court  attendants  have  returned 
home,  including  more  than  half  a  dozen  acquaintances 
of  mine — and  for  whom  I  have  battled  boldly  in  my 
paper  at  Asheville  and  Rutherfordton,  yet  who  would 
not  walk  across  the  street  to  pay  me  a  visit  of  sympathy, 
or  inquire  of  my  needs,  now  that  I  am  caged  like  a  felon, 
and  for  no  other  crime  than  the  outspoken  advocacy  of 
Democratic-Conservative  principles!  Ah!  well,  I  was 
young  and  absurdly  enthusiastic:  not  yet  versed  in  the 
gratitude  of  politicians  and  public  leaders. 

August  27th.  No  movement  yet,  although  all  the 
court  officials  have  departed.  I  suppose  the  warrant, 
or  capias,  in  our  case  has  become  lost,  or  has  never  been 
issued,  and  the  Grantizaries  are  in  trouble  about  it. 

Mrs.  Dr.  Gilkey  sent  breakfast,  and  Mrs.  Col.  Halli- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  21 

burton  dinner.  Two  young  men  doing  business  here 
sent  some  cigars,  and  writing  material — the  latter  very 
acceptable  to  me,  and  the  cigars  to  the  others.  I  shall 
always  hold  in  kind  remembrance  the  people  of  Marion, 
more  especially  the  ladies,  who  have  given  us,  daily, 
practical  testimonials  of  their  sympathy  and  good  will. 
How  wonderfully  the  weaker,  gentler  sex  come  out 
strong  and  fearless  in  times  of  great  trouble  and  op- 
pression like  the  present!  I  verily  believe  the  South 
would  have  succumbed  to  Yankee  coercion  twelve 
months  earlier  but  for  the  indomitable  spirit  of  the 
women.  I  believe  the  South  would  have  gained  her 
independence  had  our  leaders  paid  more  regard  for 
public  opinion — made,  as  it  was  in  large  measure,  by 
the  wives,  mothers,  and  sweethearts,  at  home.  Just 
so  long  as  the  latter  were  encouraged  and  appealed  to, 
they  cast  their  influence  in  favor  of  resistance  till  the 
last.  But  when  their  spirit  became  dampened  by  long 
continuance  of  utter  disregard  of  them,  when  they  saw 
their  husbands  and  brothers  treated  as  mere  machines — 
when  they  saw  fine  fledged  birds  flitting  about  on  os- 
tensible errands,  bombproofs,  etc. — while  the  army  was 
starving  on  1-8  of  a  pound  of  meat  and  a  pint  of  sour 
meal  per  day — the  women  lost  heart,  and  wrote  such 
letters  to  their  "boys  in  the  army"  as  took  life  and  hope 
out  of  many  of  them.  I  have  read  letters  from  women, 
which  made  me  almost  shed  tears,  though  I  was  in  no 
wise  interested  either  in  the  writer  or  the  recipient. 

[August  28th.]  On  the  train — at  Company  Shops, 
tediously  awaiting  the  "up "-train.  About  9  A.  M.,  in  a 
drenching  rain  we  bade  adieu  to  Marion  jail,  and  sur- 
rounded by  Yankees  with  bayonets  fixed,  were  marched 
to  the  depot.  Ladies  crowded  the  balconies,  and  saluted 
us  with  waiving  handkerchiefs,  many  of  which  were  seen 
waiving  from  residences  in  different  parts  of  the  village 
as  we  drew  out  thereof.  'Twill  be  many  a  long  day  I 
doubt  not,  ere  I  again  shall  see  these  friends,  though 
the  pleasant  memory  goes  with  me. 

The  party  of  prisoners  are  in  charge  of  Lieut.  Quin- 
an,1  and  a  detachment  of  the  4th  Artillery,  U.  S.  A., 

1  William  Russell  Quinan,  of  Maryland,  who  had  graduated  from  West  Point 
the  preceding  June. 


22  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

who  appears  to  be  a  gentlemanly  person.  He  and  a 
young  doctor,  attached  to  the  company,  have  shown  a 
very  friendly  disposition  toward  me ;  and  their  treatment 
is  so  in  contrast  with  the  brutality  of  the  Mongrels,  that 
I  can  understand  poor  Paddy's  remark,  "Thank  ye, 
Mr.  Sheriff,  really  now,  'tis  quoite  a  pleasure  to  be 
hanged  by  yet" 

At  Morganton  Capt.  Willoughby  Avery,  and  W.  F. 
McKesson  boarded  the  train  to  call  upon  us,  and  the 
former  whispered  to  never  mind  the  weather.  At  Hick- 
ory, Maj.  Jas.  H.  Foote  (if  I  caught  the  name)  a  burly 
old  gentleman  came  aboard,  and  talked  very  pleasantly. 
Carrow  seeing  that  some  attention  was  shown  us,  bustled 
in  the  car,  and  handed  to  Edgerton  a  25  cent  flask  of  bad 
whiskey  saying,  "Drink  it  up,  Boys!"  then  turning  to 
Foote,  "I  always  treat  my  prisoners  cleverly,  so  long 
as  they  behave."  I  turned  away,  and  resumed  my  news- 
paper, not  caring  to  seem  to  endorse  the  utterance,  even 
by  silence. 

At  Statesville  quite  a  number  of  persons  were  upon 
the  depot  platform  merely  for  gratification  of  their 
curiosity  I  suppose.  I  have  no  personal  acquaintance 
in  the  town. 

At  Salisbury,  we  found  a  large  assemblage,  among 
whom  were  Capt.  R.  E.  Wilson,  A.  H.  Boy  den,  Luico 
Mitchell,  and  others,  who  came  to  the  car  window,  and 
manifested  much  interest  in  us.  Speedily  the  news 
spread  and  a  vast  crowd  of  negroes  gathered  around 
the  cars,  jabbering  and  cursing,  until  Lieut.  Quinan, 
fearing  some  disturbance,  ordered  his  men  to  fix  bayo- 
nets, and  drive  back  the  "black  cloud"  o'erhanging  us. 
The  soldiers  did  not  wait  for  second  orders,  but  were  us- 
ing their  points  in  an  instant  making  the  darkeys  run 
like  sheep.  Strange  that  the  Regular  Army,  while 
antagonistic  to  the  negroes,  and  only  too  glad  of  an  op- 
portunity to  show  their  antipathy,  allow  themselves  to 
be  used  as  the  facile  tools  for  trampling  upon  the  Cau- 
casian, and  holding  him  subject  to  the  African! 

After  an  hour's  delay  at  Salisbury,  we  took  the  North 
Carolina  train,  and  are  now  within  a  couple  of  hours 
ride  from  Raleigh ; — very  weary,  and  depressed,  I  need 


The  Shotwell  Papers  23 

hardly  say.  At  Greensboro  there  were  hundreds  of 
people  upon  the  depot  platform,  and  among  them 
dozens,  if  not  scores,  of  members  of  the  Order;  judg- 
ing by  the  constant  signals  given  me.  It  would  have 
been  easy  to  raise  a  cry,  a  row,  a  rescue ;  and  as  the  night 
was  very  dark  and  the  throng  around  the  guards  too 
dense  for  them  to  use  their  weapons,  we  could  all  have 
decamped.  But  I  felt  that  we  owed  something  to  the 
leniency  of  the  Federals,  who  had  trusted  largely  to 
our  sense  of  gratitude  (allowing  me  to  move  about  the 
car  as  I  saw  fit),  and,  indeed,  after  suffering  all  the 
indignities  and  hardships  my  enemies  could  invent,  I 
would  not  now  run  away  even  if  the  doors  were  thrown 
open. 

To  show  the  feeling  at  Greensboro,  one  of  the  Federal 
lieutenants  in  stepping  down  from  the  cars  shoved  a- 
gainst  one  of  the  bystanders  who  instantly  whipt  out  a 
revolver  and  cursed  the  officer  in  violent  language — 
much  to  the  amusement  of  the  crowd. 

September  10th.  For  two  of  the  longest,  dreariest 
weeks  of  my  existence,  I  have  made  no  entry  in  my 
journal;  humiliation  and  sorrow  become  mute  when 
they  pre-dominate  in  the  mind  over  all  other  feelings. 
Besides  I  could  not  write  coherently  until  the  freshness 
of  our  experiences  here  were  dulled  by  constant  usage. 
Let  me  now  briefly  state  that  we  arrived  in  Raleigh  at 
2  o'clock  A.  M.  on  the  29th  of  August,  and  were 
marched  to  jail,  which  is  directly  behind  the  Court 
House,  on  Fayetteville  Street,  opposite  the  Yarborough 
Hotel.  The  building  is  of  brick,  two  stories,  surrounded 
by  a  high  plank  fence ;  its  dirty  walls,  and  rusty  barred 
windows  giving  to  the  general  appearance  a  repulsive- 
ness  perceptible  even  at  night.  The  jail,  both  as  to  its 
exterior  and  interior,  is  a  disgrace  to  the  Capital  of  the 
State. 

For  some  reason  we  were  conducted  through  the 
jailer's  apartment,  up-stairs,  and  through  a  small  trap 
door  (3  feet  square)  into  the  narrow  corridor  of  the 
prison  proper,  very  much  as  persons  climb  into  the  aper- 
ture of  a  cave  before  descending  to  its  shadowy  depths. 


24  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Our  party  was  now  sixteen  in  number,  having  been  re- 
cruited by  nine  others  at  Marion,  and  the  entire  16  were 
crowded  into  a  small  dark  room,  less  than  sixteen  feet 
square,  if  I  can  judge  aright.  When  all  the  prisoners 
are  stretched  upon  the  floor  there  is  no  room  to  step 
between  sleepers,  and  the  crowding  is  suggestive  of  sheep 
huddled  under  a  shelter  in  stormy  weather.  But  I 
would  endure  even  closer  packing  if  the  place  were  rea- 
sonably cleansed.  No  one  who  has  never  seen  the  in- 
terior of  an  ante-bellum  negro- jail  can  have  any  concep- 
tion of  this  "Black-Hole."  I  did  not  dream  that  such 
places  were  in  existence,  as  I  have  discovered  in  Ruther- 
fordton,  Marion,  and  in  Raleigh.  This  room  has  re- 
cently been  occupied  by  negro  vagabonds,  whose  sloven- 
liness still  disfigures  the  floors  and  window  ledges.  The 
walls  are  battered  and  stained,  and,  where  the  plastering 
is  not  peeled  off,  it  is  frescoed  with  obscene  charcoal 
sketches ;  the  two  small  windows,  are  without  glass,  but 
heavily  latticed  with  rusty  bars  of  iron,  with  a  sheet-iron 
hood  overhanging  them;  the  filth,  stains,  and  accumu- 
lated tobacco  quids  of  successive  occupants  line  the 
washboards  all  round  the  room;  while  a  disgusting  tub 
in  one  sloppy  corner  (without  even  a  screen,  until  I 
stretched  a  blanket  before  it)  adds  not  a  little  to  the 
nauseating  squalor,  and  wretchedness  of  the  interior. 
Yet  my  annoyance  from  the  crowding,  the  noise,  the 
stench,  the  vermin,  of  all  kinds,  (for  there  are  flies  and 
fleas,  mice  and  mosquitoes,  lice  and  lizards,  spiders  and 
chinches),  and  the  dirty  surroundings,  is  often  forgot- 
ten in  the  depression  arising  from  reflections  relating 
both  to  the  past,  and  the  future.  Looking  from  the 
narrow  window  this  evening,  noting  the  dismal  per- 
spective— a  foreground  of  horse  stables  upon  a  horizon 
of  negro  cabins,  shoemaker  shops,  etc. — I  recalled  with 
deep  melancholy  the  changes  in  my  situation  since  my 
last  visit  to  Raleigh,  when  I  was  constantly  surrounded 
by  friends  (the  State  Democratic  Convention  being  in 
session,  and  I  being  one  of  its  Secretaries,  as  well  as  a 
member  of  several  important  committees )  ;  and  also,  en- 
joyed  myself  in  a  social  way  going  to  ride,  or  to  dine, 
every  evening  of  my  stay.     Alas!  the  intervening  two 


The  Shotwell  Papers  25 

years  and  a  half,  were  in  many  respects  worse  than 
thrown  away.  Better  had  they  never  been!  And  now, 
how  many  other  years  must  be  added  to  these  lost  ones 
to  satiate  the  spitef ulness  of  my  scalawag  foes ! 

I  have  suffered  physically  during  the  past  fortnight 
more  than  any  one,  even  my  fellow-prisoners,  could  im- 
agine. Long  confinement  rendered  me  very  bilious, 
and  the  200  miles  of  railroad  travel,  with  changes  of 
food  and  water,  threw  me  into  a  condition  of  semi  sea- 
sickness, which  my  too  frequent  resort  to  cheap,  mean 
liquor — the  only  kind  to  be  had — served  to  allay  only 
for  a  brief  period,  succeeded  by  increased  disorders. 
Pride  upheld  this  silly  course  for  several  days  after  I 
came  here,  because  I  felt  that  if  I  succumbed,  the  daily 
visiting  spies  of  the  Mongrels  would  report  me  broken 
down,  and  self-distressed,  as  they  did  when  I  was  sick 
at  Rutherford.  At  length  I  could  keep  upon  my  feet 
no  longer,  and  wrapping  in  my  single  blanket,  crawled 
into  the  corner  to  make  a  pillow  out  of  a  pair  of  boots 
and  stretched  myself  upon  the  rough  uneven  plank  for 
a  spell  of  sickness.  Brother  tried  to  obtain  some  medi- 
cine for  me,  but  failed ;  the  negro  to  whom  he  threw  the 
money  from  the  jail  window  never  returned.  He  then 
asked  Maguire  to  send  for  a  physician,  but  was  told 
that  Dr.  Jas.  McKee  held  the  post  of  county  physician 
to  attend  prisoners  in  the  jail.  It  was  supposed  the 
Doctor  would  be  sent  for,  but  it  was  not  until  some  time 
after  night  (upon  my  second  application)  that  Dr. 
McKee  appeared,  and  prescribed  some  slight  medicine; 
whether  tonic  or  sedative,  I  am  unable  to  say.  But 
suffice  it  of  this  topic — I  passed  the  two  or  three  sub- 
sequent days  and  nights  in  utter  wretchedness.  While 
in  this  condition  J.  C.  L.  Harris,  son  of  Ceburn  and 
nephew  of  George  Logan,  came  into  the  corridor,  and 
talked  through  the  bar-door  with  brother  Addie,  seem- 
ingly friendly  disposed.  He  is  the  brother-in-law  of 
Tim  Lee,  the  sheriff  of  Wake,  in  whose  keeping  we  are; 
therefore,  might  do  much  to  alleviate  our  discomfort; 
but  of  course  we  do  not  expect  it.  I  think  he  is  naturally 
kind-hearted,  but  politics  have  been  his  bane. 


26  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Very  much  to  our  surprise  we  find  in  the  last  Cleve- 
land Banner ,  the  following: — 

Yesterday  evening  some  of  the  ladies  of  Shelby 
came  by  our  office  soliciting  contribution  for  the  six 
prisoners  who  were  taken  in  handcuffs  from  the 
Rutherfordton  jail  to  Raleigh,  and  who  are  now 
there  suffering  the  horrows  of  another  loathsome 
prison.  The  ladies,  we  understand,  collected  fifty, 
or  sixty,  dollars  for  the  six  [seven]  gentlemen.  The 
true  ladies  of  our  country  cannot  remain  inactive 
when  they  know  that  many  of  the  prisoners  have 
been  thrown  into  that  dirty  jail  without  even  a 
hearing  on  the  side  of  justice!  All  Honor  to  you, 
noble  ladies,  you  have  in  days  past  shown  your 
tender  sympathies  for  your  suffering  country;  and 
although  you  may  be  insulted  by  fiends  now,  the 
day  is  not  far  distant  when  we  shall  be  enjoying  the 
sweets  of  liberty  and  good  government. 

The  last  remark  I  fear  will  prove  to  be  merely  the 
wish  fathering  the  thought;  who  the  patriotic  and 
generous-hearted  ladies  were,  who  originated  the  move- 
ment above  described,  I  know  not,  but  their  kindness  will 
never  be  forgotten.  I  confess  it  caused  me  a  wince  or 
two,  on  first  reading  it,  because  it  happens  to  be  the 
bald  fact  that  such  assistance  will  really  come  most  op- 
portunely and  this  very  consciousness  is  a  little  galling 
to  one's  sensitiveness.  But  all  this  quickly  fades  away 
on  reflecting  that  our  noble  friends  were  so  thoughtful 
of  our  comfort,  and  so  fearless  in  manifesting  their  sym- 
pathy. I  doubt  if  any  other  town  in  the  South  has  ever 
witnessed  a  parallel  case,  refined  ladies  taking  the  street 
to  solicit  "aid  and  comfort"  for  men,  who  (except  bro- 
ther and  I)  were  almost,  if  not  altogether,  total  stran- 
gers to  them,  and  who  had  been  dragged  300  miles  away 
in  irons  like  felons  or  slaves.  "All  honor  to  these  noble 
ladies  of  Shelby!" — say  I,  too;  for,  in  truth,  the  gentler 
sex  alone  seem  to  have  the  majority  of  spunk  and  man- 
liness— or,  let  us  say,  fearlessness  of  consequences — now- 
a-days !  It  may  be  that  I  am  unduly  suspicious,  unduly 
sensitive  of  slights;  but  assuredly  there  are  very  many 
men  whom  I  have  known  in  other  days,  yea,  men  for 


The  Shotwell  Papers  27 

whom  I  have  given  my  humble  labors  as  an  editor ;  who 
"pass  by  on  the  other  side" — really,  and  figuratively — 
now  that  I  have  "fallen  among  thieves."  There  are 
dozens  of  men  in  town  today — some  of  them  within  pis- 
tol shot  of  me  at  this  moment — who  have  never  even  in- 
quired for  me  at  the  jail  door.  There  are  scores  of 
others  who  "swore  to  befriend" — to  the  "best  of  their 
ability" — every  "brother  in  distress,"  yet,  who  never 
utter  a  word  in  condemnation  of  the  outrages  heaped 
upon  my  head,  and,  from  all  that  I  can  learn,  even  join 
with  the  time-servers  in  saying  with  long  visages,  "Yes, 
this  Ku  Klux  business  was  all  wrong;  Shotwell  and  his 
gang  have  acted  recklessly — very  badly.  I  really  cannot 
apologize  for  him,  he  must  have  known  better.  I'm 
sorry  for  him  but  as  a  man  makes  his  bed,  so  must  he 
lie  in  it,"  etc.,  etc. 

Ah  me!  I  hope  to  God,  such  talk  may  not  drive  me 
into  some  "recklessness"  sure  enough! 

Happily  I  am  able  to  make  numerous  exceptions; 
there  are  many  who  feel  no  fear  of  the  Grantizaries ;  and 
many  kind  ladies  who  do  not  forget  the  "sick,  needy,  and 
in  prison."  Dr.  Geo.  W.  Blacknall  of  the  Yarborough 
has  been  especially  kind,  a  very  "Prince  of  Good  Fel- 
lows." Thrice  already  has  he  sent  over  a  large  waiter 
of  edibles,  with  his  compliments ;  and  though  addressed 
to  me,  the  contents  sufficed  to  give  all  my  fellow- 
prisoners  a  share,  much  to  our  enjoyment.  Dr.  B. 
wrote  a  note  with  the  viands  as  follows: — 

My  Dear  Sir :  I  send  you  dinner  which  you  will 
please  accept.  Whatever  success  I  have  had  in  life 
is  partly  attributable  to  my  editorial  friends,  and 
whenever  in  my  power  it  gives  me  much  pleasure  to 
add  to  their  comfort.  Trusting  you  may  soon  be 
out,  and  with  us,  I  am  Sir,  With  High  Regards, 
Yours  very  truly, 

G.  W.  B. 

Considering  the  circumstances,  this  was  very  neatly 
done  for  the  Doctor,  and  I  shall  hope  one  day  to  do  him 
"a  good  turn."  It  was  the  more  creditable  in  him  from 
the  fact  that  he  knows  perfectly  well  that  I  shall  not 
"be  out  soon,"  and  that  not  many  will  know  of  his  kind- 


28  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ness  except  among  the  Mongrels,  some  of  whose  patron- 
age he  may  lose  thereby. 

Rev.  Dr.  Drury  Lacy  has  also  interested  himself  in 
our  behalf  (brother  and  I)  and  has  twice  called;  once 
while  I  was  sick  and  could  not  go  down  to  the  gate,  and 
again  when  the  keeper  refused  to  give  him  admittance. 
I  am  told  that  several  callers  have  been  turned  back  in 
like  manner;  the  object  being  to  deprive  us  of  even  the 
consolation  of  feeling  that  we  have  a  few  staunch  friends 
left! 

By  Dr.  Lacy's  influence  probably,  and  the  kind  offices 
of  young  Brainard  Whiting  ( a  brother  of  the  lamented 
Gen'l  W.  H.  C.  Whiting,  and  a  most  deserving  young 
gentleman)  who  has  himself  brought  the  articles  to  the 
jail  gate,  we  have  received,  either  in  tray,  or  basket,  a 
liberal  present  of  "Dinner,"  or  "Supper,"  from  those 
estimable  families,  Dr.  Burwell,  Col.  C.  C.  Crow,  the 
Misses  McPheeters,  Mrs.  Prof.  Kerr,  Mrs.  Dallas  Hay- 
wood, and  two  "unknown  friends."  These  good  gifts  of 
"goodies"  for  the  "inner  man"  (sixteen  samples  of  him!) , 
though  coming  at  intervals  of  several  days;  and,  while 
plentiful  for  two,  dividing  into  small  shares ;  were  never- 
theless, so  timely  and  useful,  that  I  do  not  know  how 
we  should  have  gotten  on  without  them;  and  I  trust  I 
never  shall  be  so  ungrateful  as  to  forget  those  for  the 
which  we  are  indebted. 

Our  prison  food  thus  far  has  been  simply  unendurable 
by  any  than  an  ostrich's  stomach,  which  is  said  to  digest 
nails,  pebbles,  and  horse-shoes.  For  example,  we  re- 
ceive at  breakfast  a  small  "chunk"  of  cornbread  baked 
from  sour  corn-meal  of  the  roughest  quality.  Frequent- 
ly it  is  so  soggy  and  sour  as  to  seem  mixed  with  sooty- 
water;  and  rarely  is  it  cooked.  This  morning  it  was 
scarcely  warmed  through;  consequently  very  repulsive  to 
the  taste.  For  meat,  we  are  given  a  small  slice  of  "rusty" 
bacon — with  an  unbearable  odor  and  the  white  carcasses 
of  "skippers"  everywhere  visible  in  it!  The  third,  and 
last  article,  is  a  table-spoonful  of  half -boiled  cow-peas! 
Once  or  twice  these  have  been  exchanged  for  white  beans, 
which,  if  clean  and  fully  cooked  and  supplied  at  more 
than  two  thimblesful  per  meal,  might  prove  of  some  ser- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  29 

vice.  But  the  sour  bread,  rusty  bacon,  and  half  boiled 
cow-peas,  are  dished  out  on  dirty,  fire-blackened,  and 
battered  tin  plates,  which  leak,  and  stain  the  floor,  and 
inspire  disgust  at  first  sight.  Yet  this  repulsive  dish 
is  all  that  we  receive  for  either  dinner  or  breakfast — these 
paltry  meals,  at  nine  A.  M.,  and  two  P.  M.,  being  our 
allowance  for  24  hours!  Think  of  it!  And  think  of  the 
shame  which  attaches  to  men  who  can  coop-up  sixteen 
respectable  citizens  in  one  small  room — filthy  and  stink- 
ing; at  all  times  a  torture  to  the  hapless  inmates — and 
then  half-starve  them  upon  food  which  a  dog  would 
turn  aside  from!  We  have  prepared  a  statement  tc 
publish  in  the  Sentinel.  But  I  am  loath  to  send  it,  be- 
cause it  will  do  no  good,  and  will  gratify  my  malicious 
enemies,  while  paining  my  friends.  Besides,  have  I  not 
resolved  not  to  complain,  no  matter  what  happens  ? 

By  the  way,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  the  State  papers 
are  kindly  copying  my  card,  printed  in  the  Sentinel  last 
week.  Mr.  Shelman  writes  that  it  has  appeared  in  the 
Greensboro  Patriot,  Salisbury  Watchman,  Southern 
Home,  and  Cleveland  Banner;  the  last  of  which  com- 
ments upon  it  in  a  bold-spoken,  generous  manner.* 

Raleigh  Jail,  Sept.  4,  1871. 

Messrs  Editors  Sentinel.  In  the  Greensboro  Re- 
publican of  recent  date  I  find  an  extract  from  the 
Asheville  Pioneer  as  follows: 

"Shotwell,  ex-editor  of  the  Citizen,  is  still  in  jail, 
and  waiting  for  his  friends  outside  to  release  him 
but  in  vain.  Since  Durham's  testimony  in  Wash- 
ington before  the  outrage  committee,  Shotwell  has 
become  despondent  and  declares  now  that  he  is 
chief  of  Rutherford  county,  and  intends  to  expose 
the  whole  matter;  that  there  are  400  members  in 
Rutherford  county,  800  in  Cleveland,  200  in  Hen- 
derson, 200  in  McDowell,  and  that  when  he  gave 
up  his  editorship  and  left  Asheville  there  were  400 


*The  Card,  and  comments  were  as  given  above.  I  now  (1878)  regret  the  pub- 
lication, because  undignified,  and  too  vehement.  But  it  was  written  in  great  haste, 
under  excitement,  and  indignation,  wrought  up  by  repeated  and  persistent  slan- 
ders, and  abuse,  of  a  nature  to  damage  me  severely  among  strangers;  not  to 
speak  of  my  feverish  condition  physically,  I  having  just  arisen  from  my  hard 
couch  in  the  corner  for  the  first  day  in  four  or  five.  However  I  said  nothing,  but 
the  truth,  and  Truth  can  spare  some  of  the  niceties  and  elegancies  of  rhetoric 
when   slanders   are   denounced. 


30  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

organized  K.  K.  in  this  (Buncombe)  county,  and 
that  he  is  ready  to  give  names.  Mr.  Justice  has  evi- 
dence that  proves  beyond  doubt  that  Shotwell  was 
in  command  of  the  klan  on  the  night  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Star  office  and  the  assault  upon  himself. 
The  authorities  have  now  secured  the  names  of 
many  of  the  prominent  actors,  and  others  are  being 
obtained  daily.  Operations  have  been  commenced 
in  Cleveland  county,  when  new  developments  are 
looked  for." 

Similar  misrepresentations  have  been  made  by 
the  Newbern  Republican  and  other  radical  prints, 
I  have  been  informed. 

ISTow,  in  reply,  I  have  to  say  that  there  is  not  one 
particle  of  truth  in  any  of  these  statements.  It  is 
false  that  I  could  not  give  bail ;  but  my  friends  were 
given  to  understand  that  I  would  not  be  admitted 
to  bail.  It  is  false  that  I  ever  declared  myself  chief 
of  Rutherford  county,  and  intended  to  expose  the 
whole  matter ;  I  have  nothing  to  expose.  It  is  false 
that  I  said  there  were  400  Ku  Klux  in  Rutherford ; 
so  far  as  I  know  there  never  were  half  so  many. 
It  is  false  that  I  ever  made  an  estimate  of  the  num- 
ber of  Ku  Klux  in  Cleveland,  Henderson,  Bun- 
combe and  McDowell.  So  far  as  I  know,  there 
never  has  been  any  organization  in  either  of  these 
counties.  While  in  Asheville  I  knew  of  no  such 
organization,  nor  do  I  believe  there  was  any. 

It  is  false  that  I  was  in  command  of  the  Klan 
which  made  a  martyr  of  the  infamous  Jim  Justice 
and  committed  the  depredation  on  the  Star  office. 
I  have  never  gone  in  disguise,  nor  intentionally  in- 
jured a  human  being  except  in  lawful  warfare. 

In  fine  these  malicious  falsehoods  are  of  a  piece 
with  the  incessant  spewings  of  the  radical  press 
during  the  recent  campaign.  Nor  is  it  the  first  at- 
tempt to  blacken  my  private  character  since  my 
arrest  by  the  minions  of  the  corrupt  despot  at 
Washington.  Every  little  cur  whose  antics  I  have 
had  occasion  to  rebuke  while  conducting  a  conserv- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  31 

ative  newspaper,  now  hopes  to  yelp  his  note  of 
defamation  at  a  safe  distance. 

Prominent  in  the  pack  may  be  named  the  editor 
of  the  Pioneer,  who,  with  customary  veracity,  an- 
nounced a  few  weeks  ago  that  I  was  in  great  tribu- 
lation and  had  made  no  less  than  three  attempts  to 
commit  suicide.  This  absurd  lie  I  never  corrected, 
feeling  confident  that  my  friends  would  not  permit 
me  to  be  "killed  off"  in  any  such  manner.  Mr.  Rol- 
lins ought  to  unite  his  paper  with  the  Rutherford 
Star,  whose  editor,  J.  B.  Carpenter,  threatened  to 
shoot  me  on  sight,  and  forgot  to  do  so.  Perhaps 
between  them  they  could  get  up  a  spark  of  courage 
and  a  ray  of  truth  now  and  then. 

But  I  beg  the  Logans,  the  Scoggins,  the  Carpen- 
ters, and  the  Rollins,  and  others  of  that  ilk,  not  to 
solace  themselves  with  my  declining  health,  spirits 
or  influence.  They  have  seen  me  arrested,  they 
have  seen  me  confined  in  a  cage  with  murderers 
and  negroes,  they  have  seen  me  handcuffed  and 
carried  away  like  a  convict,  and  they  may  see  me 
arraigned  at  the  judicial  bar,  yet  they  have  never 
seen  nor  shall  see  me  on  a  level  with  them  in  the  es- 
timation of  the  good  people  of  Rutherford  county 
and  North  Carolina. 

Respectfully, 
Randolph  A.  Shotwell. 

The  Sentinel,  editorially  comments  on  my  card,  as 
follows: —  "Card  from  Capt.  R.  A.  Shotwell.  We  invite 
attention  to  the  card  of  Captain  Shotwell,  to  be  found 
in  today's  paper.  It  is  disgraceful  to  see  the  efforts  of 
certain  papers  to  prejudice  the  case  of  this  gentleman. 
Guilty  or  innocent,  he  is  entitled  to  a  fair  and  unbiased 
verdict,  and  it  is  cowardly  to  assail  him  with  his  hands 
tied  and  he  confined  in  a  common  jail." 

The  Sentinel  also  republished  the  editorial  remarks 
from  the  Cleveland  Banner,  the  Shelby  paper : 

Capt  R.  A.  Shotwell 
We  would  especially  call  the  attention  of  our 
readers  and  the  public  to  the  card  in  this  issue  of 


32  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

this  gentleman,  who  is  now  suffering  the  horrors 
and  pangs  of  another  filthy  and  loathsome  dun- 
geon, in  Raleigh. 

Though  the  infamous  radical  organs  all  over  the 
state  are,  by  their  never  ceasing  lying,  endeavoring 
to  hurl  their  invectives  upon  him,  while  bound,  riv- 
eted to  a  dirty  jail;  yet  the  manly  voice  from  the 
prison  door  comes  in  thundering  tones  defying  the 
infamous  blood-hounds  to  the  very  last. 

Capt.  Shotwell,  as  editor  of  a  conservative  news- 
paper, spoke  out  freely  in  defense  of  law  and  jus- 
tice exposing  the  rascality  of  the  radical  party, 
without  asking  any  quarter  from  their  infamous 
clique.  They  are  now  endeavoring  to  wreak  their 
vengeance  upon  him,  while  debarred  the  privilege 
of  defending  himself  from  their  hellish  persecu- 
tions. 

This  noble  man  has  shown  himself  to  be  a  true 
lover  of  liberty  and  his  country,  but  now  lies  quietly 
bound,  waiting  for  justice  to  be  done. 

Shall  the  innocent  always  suffer?  Justice  may 
sleep  but  never  dies. 

Here  is  one  outspoken  editor.  Genl.  D.  H.  Hill,  writ- 
ing for  his  Charlotte  Home,  thus  comments  upon  the 
letter  which  Sheriff  J.  Z.  Falls,  of  Cleveland  County 
addressed  to  "Governor"  Tod  R.  Caldwell,  the  man 
whom  Holden's  impeachment  gave  an  accidental  au- 
thority as  so-called  Chief  Magistrate  of  N.  C.  [Sept. 
5th.]  " 

This  gentleman,  a  former  Sheriff  of  Cleveland 
county,  has  written  a  letter  to  Gov.  Caldwell,  pro- 
testing against  the  indiscriminate  arrests  made  by 
the  donkey-king  of  Rutherford  and  stating  that 
many  innocent  persons  were  fleeing  to  escape  ar- 
rest, thereby  leaving  their  families  in  a  destitute 
condition.  The  Governor  replies  in  a  lengthy  clap- 
trap article,  intended  for  the  Northern  market ;  but 
is  careful  to  say  not  a  word  in  regard  to  his  duty  to 
protect  innocent  parties.  On  the  contrary,  he  claims 
that  flight  is  an  evidence  of  guilt  and  quotes  what 
he  calls  an  old  proverb,  "The  guilty  flee  when  no 


The  Shotwell  Papers  33 

man  pursueth."  We  would  remind  the  Governor 
that  an  old  Book,  called  the  Bible,  which  his  party- 
has  ignored  as  completely  as  it  has  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States,  gives  a  different  version  of 
this  old  proverb:  "The  wicked  flee  when  no  man 
pursueth."  The  difference  between  the  Governor's 
"old  proverb"  and  the  Bible  truth  is  infinite — the 
one  referring  to  a  specific  sin  and  the  other  to  gen- 
eral depravity,  such  as  can  only  be  properly  illus- 
trated by  the  Governor's  .  .  -1 

But  it  is  not  true  that  flight  is  an  evidence  of 
guilt  in  the  realm  of  the  donkey-king.  Gov.  Cald- 
well knows  that  thirty-nine  men  were  carried  to 
Raleigh  last  Summer  in  the  midst  of  the  crop  sea- 
son, upon  the  oath  of  Aaron  Biggerstaff's  daugh- 
ter, the  much-swearing  Mary  Ann.  These  men  had 
been  arrested  four  or  five  times  before  and,  in  all, 
lost  some  sixty  days  out  of  their  crops.  It  now  turns 
out  that  only  one  of  the  thirty-nine  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  offense  with  which  they  were  charged 
— the  whipping  of  that  old  sinner  Aaron.  Of  the 
innocence  of  thirty-eight  of  them,  even  Logan  him- 
self is  satisfied.  Would  it  not  have  been  better  for 
these  38  men  to  have  fled  and  worked  in  some  other 
State  for  the  maintenance  of  their  families  than 
thus  to  have  left  them  exposed  to  want  and  suffer- 
ing? Does  not  the  Governor  know  that  the  organ 
of  the  donkey-king  boasts  that  an  alibi  cannot  pro- 
tect anyone  charged  with  ku-kluxism?  Does  he  not 
know  that  the  best  and  purest  man  in  the  State  can 
be  arrested  upon  the  oath  of  any  depraved  white 
or  ignorant  black?  Suppose  he  does  prove  his  in- 
nocence after  being  confined  for  weeks  and  months 
in  Logan's  Black  Hole,  what  redress  of  grievance 
has  he?  What  damages  will  these  thirty-eight  men 
ever  recover  for  loss  of  time,  loss  of  property  and 
personal  suffering?  Does  not  Gov.  Caldwell  know 
that  the  perjured  scoundrels,  who  under  Logan's 
orders,  are  causing  all  this  distress,  are  wholly  irre- 
sponsible persons? 


1  A  line,  or  more,  is  missing  here. 


34  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

The  manly  letter  of  Sheriff  Falls  is  answered  by 
a  quibble  and  a  shuffle,  a  misrepresentation  of  facts, 
and  a  misquotation  of  scripture.  As  the  Governor 
is  in  the  Biblical  department,  we  commend  to  him 
the  following  passage: 

"When  the  wicked  beareth  rule,  the  people 
mourn." 

When  Judge  Logan  makes  wholesale  arrests  and 
Gov.  Caldwell  encourages  his  crimes,  the  people 
may  well  mourn  and  innocent  men  may  run  off, 
as  they  have  done  by  the  hundred  in  Rutherford. 

This  is  entirely  true,  but  falls  short  of  the  full  truth. 
Several  men  of  those  alluded  to,  and  who  were  dragged 
four  different  times,  to  different  courts, — the  last  being 
260  miles  distant — were  actually  absent  from  the  State 
at  the  time  they  were  sworn  to  be  present  at  old  man 
Biggerstaff's. 

So,  in  the  case  of  Captain  Caswell  Camp,  of  Polk 
County,  a  gentleman  of  recognized  integrity  and  high 
character;  he  was  arrested  upon  the  "charge"  of  a 
worthless  negro,  was  thrown  into  jail,  and  though  he 
brought  seven  of  his  negro  servants,  all  Radicals  of 
course,  to  prove  an  alibi,  he  was  placed  under  heavy 
bonds  to  attend  Raleigh  Court,  and  only  finally  escaped 
by  paying  large  sums;  which,  with  his  counsel  fees 
amounted  to  almost  the  value  of  a  plantation.  Capt.  C. 
was  utterly  innocent  of  the  accusations :  but  he  happened 
to  be  possessed  of  more  than  the  average  amount  of 
property,  for  that  region;  and  as  he  knew  well  enough 
the  Mongrels  meant  to  plunder  him  he  preferred  to  pay 
directly  to  them,  and  avoid  the  loss  of  time  and  liberty, 
which  he  must  undergo  if  he  should  insist  upon  his 
rights. 

Rev.  Thos.  J.  Campbell,  now  in  the  same  room  with 
me,  is  another  case.  He  was  never  upon  a  "Raid,"  nor 
in  any  way  incurred  the  frown  of  the  law,  yet  here  he 
lies,  caged  like  a  felon,  half-fed,  maltreated,  and  kept 
from  his  duties  as  a  Christian  minister. 

Rev.  Berry  Rollins,  well  known  throughout  Western 
N.  C,  was  twice  arrested,  bound  over  to  appear  at  Ral- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  35 

eigh  Court,  put  to  great  trouble,  expense,  and  indignity, 
utterly  without  cause. 

Old  "Uncle"  Wiley  S.  Walker,  aged  70,  the  reader 
will  remember,  and  how  narrowly  he  escaped  suffoca- 
tion, for  lack  of  water  while  in  Rutherford  jail.  No  one 
had  the  slightest  idea  that  "Uncle  Wiley"  was  "guilty" 
(even  according  to  Tod-dy  Caldwell's  criterion),  but 
he  owned  a  comfortable  property ;  hence  the  persecu- 
tion. 

Jonathan  Whitesides,  who  sits  at  my  elbow,  as  I 
write,  is  a  grey-haired  farmer,  a  gallant  ex-Confederate 
who  left  a  leg  in  the  trenches  around  Petersburg,  and 
this  worthy  man,  whom  every  one  respects,  is  accused 
with  midnight  raiding,  galloping  "26  miles  to  Marion," 
etc.  Of  course  when  I  add  that  he  is  able  to  pay  $300 
or  $500,  for  his  release  the  motive  of  his  arrest  and  in- 
carceration becomes  apparent. 

Nathaniel  Thome's  innocence  did  not  shield  him  from 
arrest,  from  abuse,  from  incarceration  in  Rutherford 
"Black  Hole,"  from  a  week  of  annoyance,  harassment, 
and  indignity! 

J  as,  H.  Sweezy,  aged  56,  positively  privately  declares 
to  me  that  he  is  innocent  of  the  charge  alleged  against 
him;  yet  he  was  dragged  from  home,  thrust  into  the 
"cage"  with  murderers  and  negroes,  forbidden  to  see, 
or  speak  to  his  wife  (except  from  the  3rd  story  win- 
dows) after  she  had  ridden  a  dozen  miles  to  bring  him 
some  tobacco  and  clothing,  was  handcuffed  to  a  chain 
(with  myself,  et  al) ,  dragged  to  Raleigh  (so  far  away 
that  his  witnesses  cannot  come,  he  fears)  and  will  shortly 
learn — what  the  Mongrel  friends  of  the  governor  mean 
to  do  with  him. 

My  card  soon  found  its  way  into  most  of  the  Con- 
servative papers  of  the  State,  and  was  favorably  com- 
mented on  by  many  of  my  friends,  who  were  not  too 
much  frightened  to  express  their  sentiments. 

About  this  time  the  ladies  of  Shelby  gave  a  very 
unexpected  and  practical  token  of  their  sympathy  for 
the  victims  of  mongrel  malice;  to  wit,  a  purse  of  65  or 
seventy  dollars  to  be  divided  among  the  six,  who  were 
handcuffed  at  Rutherford.  Who  originated  the  move- 


36  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ment  I  know  not,  but  it  is  said  that  a  committee  of  ladies 
collected  the  funds — which  were  conveyed  to  us  by  Capt. 
Durham. 

I  confess  I  could  not  but  feel  somewhat  sensitive  on 
the  subject  as  it  showed  rather  publicly  the  poverty  of 
our  pockets.  But  I  consoled  myself  with  the  reflection 
that  the  ladies  wished  merely  to  testify  in  an  unmis- 
takable manner  that  they  were  in  earnest  in  their  con- 
tempt for  our  persecutors  and  in  their  sympathies  for 
us.  In  this  view  of  the  matter,  it  was  a  source  of  com- 
fort, and,  to  me  at  least,  the  funds  were  very  acceptable. 

Unfortunately  such  bold  expressions  were  extremely 
rare.  Hundreds  of  members  of  the  Order,  and  personal 
acquaintances  of  mine,  were  in  the  city;  men  who  had 
taken  a  solemn  oath  to  "aid  and  assist  all  Brethren  in 
distress"  Yet  few  of  them  came,  even  to  inquire  how 
I  got  on! 

I  am  too  old,  too  philosophic,  to  rail  at  inconstancy  of 
friends.  But  I  cannot  help  feeling  vexed  and  mortified 
by  the  neglect  and  avoidance  I  have  experienced  from 
the  hour  of  my  arrest  by  those  who  profess  to  be  my 
friends.  Of  course  they  will  be  able  to  excuse  themselves 
on  prudential  grounds.  Yet  had  they  stood  by  me  un- 
flinchingly, and  boldly  denounced  the  outrages  perpe- 
trated on  me,  it  would  have  been  better  for  all  parties. 
Because,  there  is  no  question  that  the  Mongrels  were 
emboldened  to  trample  on  law  and  justice  as  they  did, 
chiefly  by  the  little  opposition  they  encountered,  and  the 
base  sycophancy  of  many  men,  who  did  not  scruple  to 
"bow  the  knee  that  thrift  might  follow  favoring."  Many 
respectable  and  intelligent  men  fairly  courted  the  favor 
of  every  Mongrel  "deputy-marshal"  in  order  to  make 
sure  his  escape  from  prosecution.  This  of  course  is  in 
accordance  with  human  nature;  but  we  are  obliged  to 
dispise  it  nevertheless. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEENTH 

Convicted  and  Sentenced 

Not  having  the  stenographic  reports  of  my  trial,  I 
omit  the  few  notes  made  at  the  time,  until  I  shall  have 
obtained  the  necessary  data  from  the  files  of  the  Raleigh 
newspapers.1 

WAITING  FOR  THE  VERDICT 

The  long  afternoon  wore  away:  listeners  as  well  as 
speakers  were  fatigued,  mentally  and  physically,  yet 
the  dense  assemblage  showed  no  sign  of  scattering:  each 
looker  on  held  his  position  in  unsatiated  curiosity,  or 
from  grim  resolution  to  see  the  worst — the  climax — the 
verdict ! 

Such  scenes  are  not  uncommon  in  the  civil  courts  on 
occasions  of  great  criminal  trials;  but  in  the  present 
instance  the  proceedings  derived  special  interest  aside 
from  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  from  the  peculiar 
surroundings  of  the  Court:  the  handsomely  furnished 
Senate  Chamber,  with  galleries  and  lobby  crowded  to 
their  utmost,  the  Judges  seated  under  the  damask  can- 
opy of  the  speaker's  dias,  the  clerks  and  reporters  below, 
the  lawyers  occupying  the  desks  of  Senators — all  served 
to  recall  the  spectacle  of  a  fashionable  theatre  with  a 
tragic  court  scene  upon  the  boards.  Alas!  'Twas  both 
farce  and  tragedy  accompanied  by  all  the  usual  features 
of  bribery,  treachery,  villainy,  and  arbitrary  injustice, 
except  that  the  denouement  failed  to  unmask  and  punish 
the  traitor  and  the  false  Judge,  as  it  should ! 

The  prisoners,  as  heretofore,  were  hemmed  in,  in  the 
corridor  behind  the  Speaker's  desk,  by  ropes  drawn  from 
the  pillars  to  the  walls;  and  guarded  by  half  a  dozen 
Mongrel  marshal's  deputies.  They  were  the  objects  of 
constant  observation  and  remark  by  the  multitude; 
— often  to  my  great  mortification,  as  my  companions 
were  men  of  little  education,  less  culture,  and  of  the 
humbler  walk  of  life,  even  in  their  own  mountain  region ; 

1  The  Ku  Klux  trials  are  inadequately  reported  in  Ho.  Reports,  42  Cong.,  2 
Sess.,    No.    22,    pt.    2,    pp.    417-592. 

37 


38  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

hence  many  of  my  eastern  friends,  viewing  me  in  appar- 
ent association,  and  jointly-accused,  with  them,  (tho*  I 
had  never  spoken  to  one  of  them  previous  to  my  impris- 
onment!) very  naturally  assumed  that  intemperance 
and  recklessness  had  lowered  me  in  every  respect.  It  was 
foolish  for  one  in  my  situation  to  be  worried  by  such 
trifles,  but  the  experience  of  all  prisoners — at  least  those 
wrongfully  confined — shows  that  these  apparent  trifles 
of  ordinary  life,  are  real  grievances  "behind  the  bars." 

On  the  right  of  the  Judge  sat  our  counsel,  Ex-Gov. 
Thomas  Bragg,  looking  very  infirm  and  feeble;  Col. 
Geo.  V.  Strong,  fresh  and  ruddy;  ex- Judge  Daniel  G. 
Fowle,  easy  and  yet  watchful,  Col.  T.  C.  Fuller,  busily 
writing,  Capt.  Plato  Durham,  serious  and  angry,  Jos. 
L.  Carson,  ponderous  and  tired:  Geo.  M.  Whiteside, 
et  als. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  Chamber,  around  a  little 
stand,  grouped  "Jim"  Justice,  prosecutor,  Virgil  S. 
Lusk,  Government  Attorney,  Samuel  F.  Phillips,  guilty 
looking,  Mark  L.  Erwin,  rather  "spirit"-ous,  and  Gov. 
Tod  R.  Caldwell,  who  scowled  at  me,  as  if  gloating  over 
the  fact  that  I  was  soon  to  become  a  "convict." 

It  was  one  of  the  coincidences  of  life  that  all  save  one 
of  these  men  who  had  so  strenuously  exerted  their  tal- 
ents to  send  me  to  the  Penitentiary  were  persons  whom 
I  regarded  as  deadly  enemies. 

Lusk,  had  grossly  assailed  me  in  the  public  prints 
because  of  my  defence  of  certain  unoffending  citizens 
of  Madison  County — strangers  to  me  personally.  I 
caned  him  severely  in  the  public  street  of  Asheville,  and 
he,  being  armed  and  prepared,  slightly  wounded  me  in 
two  places. 

Caldwell,  I  had  convicted  in  my  paper  of  promising 
to  obtain  a  pardon  for  Col.  Gaither,  and  others  of  his 
Morganton  neighbors,  and  actually  showing  them  a  let- 
ter to  Congress,  asking  the  removal  of  their  disabilities, 
while  at  the  same  time,  mailing  a  secret  letter  (which 
Senator  Nye  very  blunderingly  read  in  the  Senate)  de- 
claring that  they  were  arrant  Rebels,  and  ought  not  to 
be  pardoned  on  any  conditions.  Gov.  C.  never  forgave 
me  for  the  exposure,  and  my  indignant  comments  on  his 


The  Shotwell,  Papers  39 

conduct.  Consequently  throughout  the  trial,  he  was  an 
ever  present  "abettor,"  if  not  an  "aide"  to  the  pack  of 
my  unscrupulous  pursuers. 

Justice,  I  had  repeatedly  flayed  in  my  paper,  and 
never  treated  otherwise  than  as  a  Mongrel  of  the  lowest 
order!  Besides  he  was  attempting  to  wrong  me;  and  a 
man  always  hates  him  whom  he  has  wronged,  or  tried 
to  wrong. 

Erwin  I  had  more  than  once  censured  for  his  politi- 
cal turn  coatism,  and  he,  too,  felt  that  he  was  conspiring 
against  an  innocent  man. 

I  have  said  that  all,  save  one,  were  enemies :  perhaps 
I  ought  not  to  except  Sam  Phillips — for  while  he  knew 
nothing  of  me  personally,  he  had  winced  severely  under 
the  plain-speaking  of  my  counsel,  and  was  now  enlisted 
against  me,  not  alone  by  his  big  fee,  but  in  hatred  and 
malice.  This  will  more  clearly  appear  hereafter,  in  Ad- 
die's  case. 

Three  of  the  Government's  counsel  against  me,  I  have 
not  mentioned;  their  names  will  suffice:  Judge  Hugh  L. 
Bond,  occupied  the  Bench:  Judge  George  W.  Brooks, 
though  not  of  the  Circuit  Court,1  sat  by  Bond  to  give 
him  countenance  (if  that  be  not  absurd  in  connection 
with  a  face  of  brass!)  and  the  third,  Attorney-General 
of  the  United  States,  Amos  T.  Akerman  (like  Phillips, 
a  renegade  Southerner)  alternated  between  Judge 
Bond  on  the  Bench  and  Judge  Bond  in  his  private  room, 
spending  three  days  in  Raleigh  to  make  sure  that  there 
should  be  no  failure  to  carry  out  the  plot !  Worthy  spec- 
tacle! a  National  Cabinet-Minister  *  leaving  the  Capital 
to  come  to  a  distant  state,  and  cast  all  the  power  and 
influence  of  the  government  against  a  number  of  hum- 
ble citizens  on  trial  for  their  lives !  Does  any  one  believe 
that  zeal  for  the  good  of  the  state  actuated  this  trip! 
The  purpose,  and  its  success,  was  shown  in  the  Presiden- 
tial election  a  few  months  later.  A  thousand  indications, 
and  subsequent  revelations,  now  establish  the  fact  that 
the  whole  course  of  the  Grant  Administration  in  the 
North  Carolina  "Ku  Klux  trials,"  so-called,  was  the 
carrying  out  of  careful  plans  for  capturing  the  electoral 

1  This  is,  of  course,  an  error. 


40  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

votes  of  the  State,  and  other  Southern  states,  without 
any  regard  for  the  ends  of  justice,  or  the  rights  of  indi- 
viduals. 

But  let  us  return  to  the  court-room:  Time  has 
dragged  upon  leaden  wings,  and  the  jury  are  still  "out" 
making  a  pretense  of  deliberating.  It  would  not  look 
well  to  return  suddenly,  as  if  the  verdict  were  already 
written  out  when  they  retired.  So  the  red  sun  crept 
down  in  the  west,  leaving  a  crimson  flush  dyeing  the 
walls  and  bringing  into  relief  the  picture  of  Washing- 
ton, directly  behind  and  over,  the  group  of  government 
attorneys.  The  old  patriot  might  well  look  sadly  at  them! 
At  length,  the  gas  was  lit,  and  the  crowd,  which  had 
thinned  somewhat  at  supper-time  became  reinforced  by 
stragglers  from  the  streets  attracted  by  the  brilliant 
windows  of  the  Capitol.  For  all  the  jam,  it  was  notice- 
able that  there  was  little  noise,  no  loud  talking,  and  the 
scarcely  audible  hum  of  many  voices  was  in  that  sub- 
dued tone  used  at  funerals,  or  in  the  presence  of  a  great 
tragedy.  The  clock  points  to  half -past  nine:  the  Judges 
resume  their  seats:  the  door  of  the  jury  room  opens, 
and  a  straggling  line  of  guilty  looking  jurors — the  dar- 
keys at  the  rear — files  into  court.  Indignant  glances 
shoot  at  them  from  all  sides,  for  every  one  knows  what 
will  be  their  verdict.  They  would  not  be  where  they  are, 
for  any  other  purpose  than  to  execute  the  orders  of  their 
masters  and  payer,  by  bringing  in  a  so-called  verdict  of 
Guilty! 

THE  VERDICT 

"We  find,"  quoth  foreman  Manliff,1  "the  following 
persons  not  Guilty  (quite  generous! — as  there  was  not 
one  bit  of  evidence  against  them!)  Frederick  Addison 
Shotwell,  Calvin  Teal,  and  Wm.  Tanner.  We  find  the 
following  persons  Guilty:  Randolph  A.  Shotwell,  Adol- 
phus  DePriest,  Wm.  Mclntyre,  George  Holland,  Amos 
Owens,  David  Collins,  Wm.  Teal,  and  Wm.  Scruggs." 

Two  of  the  prisoners  included  in  the  count,  S.  K. 
Moore,  and  Doc.  B.  Fortune,  were  seduced  into  plead- 
ing guilty  early  in  the  trial,  on  promise  of  light  sentence. 

1  Manliff  Jarrell,  a  Guilford  County  distiller,  was  foreman  of  the  grand  jury 
not  of  the  trial  jury. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  41 

My  brother's  counsel  now  arose,  and  asked  in  the  usual 
forms  that  he,  and  the  two  other  men  acquitted,  should 
be  discharged  from  custody.  Bond  began  to  give  the 
necessary  order — "The  marshall  will  release  the  pris" — 
when  Sam  Phillips,  jumping  up,  very  red-faced  and 
angry — bellowed — "Not  so!  your  Honor;  we  have  other 
charges  against  him!"  The  Judge  looked  surprised,  as 
if  wondering  what  new  scheme  his  confederate  had  in 
view;  but  ordered  my  poor  brother  once  more  back  to 
the  filthy  Raleigh  jail.  I  will  here  remark,  par  paren- 
theses, that  I  do  not  believe  Phillips  had  any  other 
charge  against  Addie;  but  knowing  the  sentence  soon 
to  be  imposed  on  me,  he  hoped  that  its  severity  would 
cause  many  poor  devils  to  try  to  save  themselves  by 
manufacturing  evidence  against  their  neighbors,  and 
that  in  the  meshes  of  this  net,  Addie  might  be  taken.  He 
was  accordingly  remanded  to  jail — held  for  nearly  two 
weeks — and  then — discharged,  informally  without  the 
promised  "other  charges"  ever  appearing  outside  of 
Sam  Phillips'  malicious  head. 

Intense  silence  for  one  minute  followed  these  pro- 
ceedings; then  a  murmur  of  suppressed  indignation, 
with  an  occasional  hiss,  ran  around  the  lobbies:  yet  it 
was  a  shudder  rather  than  a  protest,  for  nearly  one-third 
of  the  audience  were  directly  or  indirectly  interested  in 
the  trial — being  themselves  members  of  the  Secret  Or- 
der, consequently  liable  to  similar,  or  approximate,  mal- 
treatment. 

A  PETTY  ATTEMPT  TO  HUMILIATE 

When  a  portion  of  the  multitude  had  vacated  the 
Senate  Chamber,  leaving  the  main  aisle  clear,  U.  S.  Mar- 
shal Carrow  waddled  to  a  corner,  where  I  had  seen  him 
deposit  a  rope  early  in  the  evening,  (showing  that  the 
verdict  of  the  jury  was  well  known,  and  prepared  for, 
in  advance)  and  calling  me  out,  in  front  of  the  Speak- 
er's stand,  in  full  view  of  the  crowded  Chamber,  roughly 
bound  my  arms  behind  my  bach,  like  a  slave  tied  for  the 
mart! 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  I  had  never  signified  in 
word,  or  deed,  the  least  intention  to  escape,  the  least 
truculence  or  turbulance,  nor  had  been  in  the  least  offen- 


42  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

sive  to  my  keepers,  even  while  lying  among  the  robbers, 
thieves,  and  red-handed  murderers  in  Rutherford  and 
McDowell  county  jails.  Hence  this  humiliation  was  in- 
flicted in  sheer  spite,  to  gratify  the  low  malice  of  the 
Logans,  Scoggins,  Lusks,  Caldwells,  and  Justices 
among  Carrow's  accomplices. 

So  unnecessary  was  this  indignity  that  Capt.  R.  T. 
Bosher,  one  of  Carrow's  most  trusted  "deputies"  (a 
former  Yankee  soldier,  and  Captain  in  Kirk's  cut  throat 
gang!)  actually  sprang  forward  to  stop  the  tying  of  my 
wrists,  saying,  "Marshall,  don't  tie  Capt  Shotwell, 
there's  no  need  of  it;  I'll  engage  to  take  him  safely  back 
to  jail!"* 

Carrow  took  hold  personally  to  superintend  the  tying 
and  drew  the  ropes  so  tightly,  that  for  three  or  four  days 
my  arms  showed  dark  purple  rings  in  the  skin  to  mark 
the  coils  of  the  cord. 

This  last  indignity  overcame  my  self-control  (as  I 
had  weakened  that  self-control  by  taking  several  drinks 
during  the  noon-recess,  and  was  therefore  dry  and 
nervous,  now)  and  I  could  not  deny  myself  the  pleas- 
ure of  saying  to  Carrow,  "You  cowardly  hound!  Cannot 
your  brigade  of  armed  deputies  guard  a  half-dozen  half- 
starved  men,  without  tying  them  till  you  cut  the  blood 
from  their  arms !  Shame !" 

NEW  QUARTERS 

Down  from  the  Capital,  down  Fayetteville  Street, 
past  groups  of  curious  citizens,  and  astonished  ladies, 
the  cavalcade  of  bound-slaves,  all  tied  to  the  same  rope, 
like  a  gang  of  galley  slaves,  going  to  work,  returns  to  the 
jail;  where  we  find  new  evidence  that  the  court-officials 
were  well-informed  of  the  verdict  before  its  delivery.  For 
it  appears  that  shortly  after  noon — before  my  counsel 
had  finished  the  defence,  the  jailor  cleared  the  "strong- 
room," or  "condemned  cell"  to  receive  us,  and  had  our 
baggage  removed  therein !  Our  new  quarters  were  about 
12  x  15  feet  square —  filthier  than  those  we  left — and 
far  more  uncomfortable  as  there  was  a  thick  wooden 
door  outside  the  iron  one,  so  that  we  could  hold  no  com- 
munication with  our  fellows,  and  were  without  air  or 

*Capt.  B.  has  since  my  release  frequently  assured  me  that  he  was  disgusted 
with  the  whole  proceeding;  and  acknowledges  that  it  was  done  to  humiliate  me. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  43 

light  save  that  from  two  small  windows,  scarcely  large 
enough  for  a  man  to  crawl  through,  and  heavily  barred, 
besides  being  overhung  and  shaded  by  a  tin  water-shoot. 
Of  course,  the  interior  was  gloomy,  damp,  and  oppres- 
sive in  extreme. 

Here,  too,  I  was  denied  any  intercourse  with  brother 
Addison,  though  I  could  well  rejoice  that  he  was  exempt 
from  the  torments  we  endured.  The  gloom  and  depres- 
sion of  that  night,  and  the  following  day  need  not  be  de- 
scribed. For  weeks  and  months  I  had  been  certain  that 
the  end  would  be  just  this  very  thing,  yet  now  that  it 
was  come,  the  blow  fell  heavily.  Half  my  solicitude  was 
on  account  of  my  poor  old  father  for  whom  I  feared — 
feared ! ! 

Sept.  21.  I  arose  early;  shaved  and  dressed  as  neatly 
as  my  scanty  wardrobe  would  permit:  expecting  to  be 
called  to  the  Court  room  to  receive  sentence.  It  was  my 
determination  if  opportunity  occurred  to  address  the  as- 
semblage and  calmly,  plainly  detail  my  connection  with 
the  Klan,  and  give  full  statement  of  its  origin  and  ob- 
jects; as  well  as  an  account  of  the  malicious  persecution 
which  had  followed  me,  and  was  still  pursuing  me,  for 
political  effect.  In  short,  I  meant  to  vindicate  myself, 
before  the  bar  of  public  opinion,  if  not  of  "Jeffreys" 
Bond's  court. 

Alas!  I  was  not  called  out,  and  the  suspense  became 
intolerable.  Some  one  bribed  a  guard  to  get  us  a  quart 
of  liquor — very  mean,  it  was,  too,  and  ere  night  we  had 
finished  it ;  and  unhappily  it  finished  us,  as  well.  My  sys- 
tem being  charged,  and  surcharged,  with  bile,  from  long 
confinement  and  excessive  drinking  was  now  in  a  con- 
dition of  real  fever,  and  danger.  Shortly  after  lying 
down  at  night,  I  found  myself  deathly  sick,  and  slept 
no  more  that  night.  Every  other  moment  a  qualm  of 
sickness  caused  me  to  retch  violently:  then  a  raging 
fever  forced  me  to  drink  water,  which  almost  instantly 
produced  more  retching. 

This  state  of  things  left  me  exhausted  and  dizzy  at 
daybreak ;  so  that  I  could  not  hold  my  head  off  the  pil- 
low. 


44  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

SENTENCED 

On  the  22nd  day  of  September  ('71)  was  witnessed 
the  crowning  act  and  outrage  of  the  vile  political  drama 
— the  Judicial  farce — which  was  to  send  me  to  a  far 
Northern  prison  to  drag  out  six  of  the  best  years  of  my 
life,  at  hard  labor,  in  the  garb  of  a  felon ! 

Daybreak  found  me  as  already  stated,  seriously  ill: 
— so  nervous,  weak,  and  dizzy-headed  as  to  be  unable 
to  stand  alone.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  one  more 
wretched!  Breakfast  was  brought  in  at  nine  o'clock 
but  the  very  sight  of  it  caused  me  to  vomit.  A  dirty- 
battered,  tinplate,  containing  two  table-spoonsful  of 
half  boiled  "cow-peas,"  a  slim  slice  of  'rusty'  bacon,  too 
'strong-smelling  for  even  the  stomach  of  an  ostrich;' 
and  a  small  chunk,  or  piece,  of  sour,  sun-dried  corn- 
dodger, hard  as  cocoanut  shell,  twice  a  day  (at  9  A.  M. 
and  3  P.M.)  constituted  the  only  food  furnished  us  by 
the  great  and  good  government,  whose  helpless  captives 
we  were!  No  negro  in  the  town  lived  half  so  poorly. 
While  the  men  were  eating  this  stuff,  Capt.  Plato  Dur- 
ham came  in  and  kneeled  on  my  blankets  to  urge  me  to 
get  up,  and  prepare  to  go  to  the  Capitol.  I  assured  him 
I  was  not  able,  and  could  I  obtain  medical  counsel, 
would,  doubtless,  have  a  certificate  to  that  effect.  But 
on  his  representing  to  me  that  my  enemies  would  sneer, 
and  say  that  after  all  I  feared  to  face  the  sentence,  I 
managed  to  muster  sufficient  pride  to  sustain  me;  and 
when  called,  promptly  answered;  though  in  going  up 
Fayetteville  street  I  was  obliged  to  hold  to  the  arm  of 
Capt.  Bosher,  and  another  deputy,  guarding  me,  as  I 
reeled  like  a  drunken  man.  Ah!  what  would  I  not  have 
given  for  a  gill  of  strong  brandy  then  to  settle  my  sys- 
tem! Men  who  talk  temperance  as  a  general  thing  are 
ministers  and  others  who  never  drank  to  excess,  if  at 
all;  hence  do  not  know  the  nature  of  the  ailment  they 
wish  to  cure :  therefore  nine  times  out  of  ten  fail  lament- 
ably, because  thereof. 

The  prisoners  were  marched  into  the  room  of  the 
Senate  enrolling  clerk  to  await  call.  Here  Col.  Carrow 
made  his  appearance,  and  quite  familiarly  addressed 
some  of  the  men,  as  if  the  verdict  of  his  packed  jury  had 


The  Shotwell  Papers  45 

reduced  us  to  the  level  of  his  complacent  consideration. 
I  turned  my  back  upon  him,  and  gazed  out  of  the  win- 
dow. Mention  is  made  of  this  incident  prefatory  to  sub- 
sequent occurrences. 

BEFORE  THE  BAR 

Court  having  been  opened,  after  some  delay,  I  was 
summoned  to  receive  sentence.  It  was  a  moment  long 
anticipated  (since  no  one  supposed  that  anything  less 
would  result  from  Mongrel  malice)  yet  it  had  never 
occurred  to  me  that  I  should  be  so  utterly  prostrate, 
physically,  at  so  important  a  time:  and  God  knows,  I 
would  have  sacrificed  my  right  arm  to  have  been  in  or- 
dinary strength  and  composure!  But  there  could  be  no 
hesitating  or  delay;  and  I  followed  the  Mongrel  into 
the  vast  assemblage,  which  packed  every  inch  of  stand- 
ing room  in  the  Senate  Chamber.  Calling  all  the  pride 
and  resolution  of  my  nature  to  sustain  me,  I  stood  in 
front  of  the  multitude,  gazing  generally  at  the  mass  of 
heads  not  daring  to  distinguish  between  faces  and  per- 
sons lest  some  expression  of  pity  should  melt  my  firm- 
ness. The  ordeal  was  long  and  trying:  worse  than  re- 
peated gazing  into  the  photographer's  camera!  For  be- 
sides the  natural  embarrassment  of  my  situation,  I  was 
deeply  agitated  by  thoughts  of  the  mistaken  ideas  that 
would  be  drawn  from  my  nervousness  and  pallor.  My 
friends,  themselves,  would  argue  that  I  felt  guilty  from 
the  very  tremors,  and  trepidation;  the  absence  of  bold, 
calmness,  etc.,  etc.  Whereas  the  truth  is,  I  hardly 
thought,  or  remembered,  that  I  was  a  prisoner  about 
to  receive  sentence,  but  was  worried  beyond  description 
by  the  mortification  of  being  misunderstood,  caught  in 
the  toils  of  circumstances !  Perspiration  poured  from  my 
forehead,  and  in  spite  of  all  that  I  could  do,  my  hands 
and  limbs  shook  with  feverish  nervousness,  and  in  my 
agony  of  consciousness  that  I  was  giving  a  false  im- 
pression I  would  cheerfully  have  submitted  to  double 
the  sentence  provided  it  were  delayed  until  I  could  come 
before  the  Court,  strong,  composed,  "clothed  and  in  my 
right  mind."  Many  persons  will  not  comprehend  this 
sensitiveness  on  my  part,  because  they  do  not  know  the 
nature  of  the  situation  as  it  affected  me,  at  the  time.  It 


46  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

is  probable  I  exaggerated  my  own  sensations,  as  the 
newspaper  reports  spoke  of  our  demeanor  as  being  very 
"quiet  and  stolid,  even  to  indifference. "  But  no  such  de- 
scription could  apply  to  my  feelings,  whatever  were  my 
looks. 

In  making  this  somewhat  lengthy  statement  of  my 
feelings  and  condition  at  the  time  of  receiving  sentence, 
I  wish  to  explain  the  reasons  why  I  failed  to  say  more 
in  my  own  defence,  when  allowed  to  do  so.  It  had  been 
my  plain  design  to  boldly  and  frankly  avow  my  con- 
nection with  the  "Invisible  Empire,"  stating  the  circum- 
stances which  induced  me  to  join  it,  explaining  the  ob- 
jects and  ends  of  the  Order,  that  I  had  never  taken  part 
in  any  raids  or  lawlessness,  nor  ordered  the  same,  that 
my  so-called  "Chief-ship  was  purely  nominal,  I  having 
not  the  least  authority  over  the  reckless  young  country 
boys  who  were  most  active  in  "night-riding,"  whipping, 
etc.,  all  of  which  was  outside  of  the  intent  and  consti- 
tution of  the  Klan,  (except  in  certain  cases,  under  or- 
ders of  the  Grand  Council)  with  much  other  matter  that 
would  not  only  be  new  to  many  of  my  friends  but  must 
put  a  new  phase  on  the  whole  affair.  This,  I  say,  was  my 
long-cherished  purpose,  alas!  in  my  prostrated  condi- 
tion I  could  only  curse  my  own  folly  at  having  crippled 
myself,  body  and  mind;  throwing  away  an  opportunity 
for  not  only  vindicating  myself  in  the  estimation  of  the 
decent  people  of  the  State,  but  also,  rescuing  the  good 
name  of  all  my  fellow  members  of  the  Klan  from  un- 
merited reproach. 

While  awaiting  the  action  of  the  Court,  Judge  Fowle 
came  to  me,  and  whispered  "You  will  need  to  summon 
all  your  strength  and  philosophy:  Bond  has  decided  to 
give  you  the  full  penalty  of  the  law,  six  years  at  hard 
labor!"  "I  suppose  so;  they  have  meant  it  from  the 
first.  He  will  make  a  stump  speech,  I  understand?"  said 
I.  "Yes,  it  is  too  good  an  opportunity  for  Bond  to  miss, 
he  feels  meanly,  and  will  talk  accordingly,"  quoth  the 
Judge. 

As  a  number  of  the  lawyers,  and  others,  were  watch- 
ing these  proceedings  and  heard  my  remark,  C arrow 


The  Shotwell  Papers  47 

made  a  pretence  of  loosening  the  ropes  but  in  point  of 
fact,  drew  them  if  anything  tighter  than  before. 

Men  who  have  known  Sam  Carrow  as  a  good  neigh- 
bor, and  generous  friend,  are  loath  to  believe  this,  and 
other  instances  of  malicious  cruelty,  I  shall  have  to 
record  against  him.  But  there  is  nothing  strange  in  it. 
When  at  Marion  he  kept  seven  of  us  confined  in  a  putrid 
cage  gasping,  day  and  night,  for  air  and  water,  he  was 
surrounded  by  Mongrels,  his  "deputy  marshals,"  and 
he  tortured  us  for  their  benefit.  Here  at  Raleigh  he  was 
surrounded  by  similar  scoundrels,  and  again  tortured  us 
as  a  side-show  for  their  benefit. 

"It  is  strange,"  says  Sir  James  Macintosh,  in  writing 
of  the  French  Revolution,  "how  uniformly,  when  op- 
pression rules  the  hour,  the  tyrant,  be  he  who  he  may, 
on  the  throne,  or  the  lowest  turnkey  of  a  prison,  con- 
trives, and  seems  to  study  to  contrive,  how  to  make 
cruelty  more  cruel — add  insult  to  injury,  and  inflict  new 
torments  and  annoyances  on  those  who  must  be  neces- 
sarily, already  wretched!" 

Mr.  Assistant  (hireling)  U.  S.  District  Attorney 
Phillips,  now  prays  the  formal  "Judgment"  of  his  con- 
federate on  the  Bench  upon  Randolph  A.  Shotwell  et 
al.  And  with  a  view  to  palliate  the  enormity  of  the  sen- 
tence which  he  knows  will  immediately  follow,  he  reads 
a  long  letter  written  in  1869,  two  years  earlier,  by  Wm. 
P.  Bynum,  Solicitor  of  the  Lincoln  District,  not  em- 
bracing Rutherford,  addressed  to  Wm.  H.  Holden,  and 
reciting  certain  instances  of  whipping  of  vagabond  ne- 
groes, frightening  of  negro  women,  etc.,  etc.,  all  of 
which  occurred  previous  to  the  date  of  the  letter,  and 
had  no  sort  of  connection  with  my  trial.  This  same  let- 
ter, be  it  remarked,  furnished  a  part  of  the  grounds 
upon  which  Holden  maneuvered  his  "Kirk's  Lambs" 
(cut  throats)  for  which  he  was  impeached,  convicted, 
and  run  out  of  the  State.  To  add  to  the  villainy  of  the 
thing,  Sam  Phillips  at  the  time  the  letter  was  written, 
and  first  published,  was  a  prominent  leader  in  the  Dem- 
ocratic party,  and  denounced  the  falsity  of  the  charges 
in  the  letter  fully  as  strongly  as  myself.  Yet  now  he 
produces  it,  and  makes  it  a  part  of  the  record  against 


48  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

me,  and  others — already  doomed.  But  my  indignation 
at  this  attempt  to  manufacture  prejudice  against  me  by 
means  of  a  letter  written  two  years  before,  and  relating 
to  a  section  wherewith  I  had  no  sort  of  connection,  was 
destined  to  give  place  speedily  to  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  mortification  and  anguish  from  a  most  unex- 
pected source,  and  all  the  more  bitter,  because  an  ut- 
terly, needless,  ill-founded,  and  gross  error  of  one  of 
my  own  counsel!! 

Col.  T.  C.  Fuller,  who  had  been  very  active  in  fight- 
ing Lusk,  Phillips,  &  Co.,  on  the  constitutional  features 
of  the  law,  came  to  me  just  as  court  was  opened  re- 
marking that  he  thought  of  making  an  appeal  to  the 
Court.  I  was  so  dazed,  bewildered,  and  sick — my  mind 
seemed  paralyzed,  and  I  did  not  once  catch  his  idea,  01 
supposed  the  "appeal"  was  some  sort  of  a  legal  process. 
I  supposed  he  meant  a  private  appeal  to  be  made  for 
the  prisoners  collectively,  on  the  ground  that  the  Klan 
was  now  disbanded,  and  made  no  objection,  though  the 
next  moment  I  began  to  wonder  how  he  could  approach 
the  Judge  to  ask  leniency  when  he  must  have  known 
all  the  vile  measures  taken  by  the  prosecution  to  obtain 
their  ends.  Hence  when  the  speaker  mentioned  my 
name,  and  continued  to  beg  for  mercy  for  me,  I  could 
not  credit  my  ears.  What,  then,  was  my  amazement, 
mortification,  shame,  when  he  began  by  saying  he  would 
not  question  the  propriety  of  the  prisoner's  conviction 
as  the  Jury  had  convicted  on  the  evidence  before  them 
(yet  Col.  Fuller  knew  that  the  jury  was  "packed,"  and 
the  evidence  "false!").  The  Ku  Klux  organization  was 
broken  up,  the  court  could  fairly  infer  that  no  fresh 
crimes  had  been  committed  since  the  Justice  affair,  and 
as  the  law  had  been  vindicated  no  good  purpose  could 
now  be  subserved  by  severe  punishment.  "Shotwell  was 
a  young  man,  respectably  connected,  the  son  of  an  aged, 
poor  Presbyterian  Minister,  whose  heart  had  often  bled 
for  the  indiscretions  and  recklessness  of  his  son  in  these 
transactions.  He  appealed  to  the  clemency  of  the  Court 
for  the  sake  of  the  prisoner  and  the  aged  father,  and 
asked  them  to  deal  tenderly  with  the  boy.  He  knew  he 
must  be  punished,  but  as  the  object  of  the  prosecution 


The  Shotwell  Papers  49 

had  been  accomplished  by  the  conviction  he  prayed  for 
mercy!  mercy!!  mercy!!" 

Had  the  waters  of  the  Deluge  suddenly  arisen  around 
my  feet,  I  could  not  have  been  more  shocked — over- 
whelmed— agonized  than  I  was  on  hearing  these  words ! 
I  was  fairly  paralyzed;  for,  though  I  tried  to  turn,  and 
deny  the  speaker,  my  limbs  seemed  spell-bound,  and 
voice  deserted  me.  I  could  only  glare  at  the  Judge  in 
dumb  horror.  Here  was  one  of  my  own  counsel,  com- 
pletely conceding  all  that  I  denied  with  scorn — com- 
pletely giving  up  my  defence — giving  away  my  good 
name  and  reputation — vindicating  all  that  had  been 
done  against  me  by  my  mortal  enemies — accepting  all  as 
a  righteous  verdict  of  an  impartial  tribunal ! !  A  thousand 
times  during  my  long  imprisonment  I  wept  tears  of 
bitterness  over  this  most  unkindest  cut  of  all  (though 
not  unkindly  meant!),  the  heaviest  blow  that  yet  had 
fallen  upon  my  luckless  head! 

In  the  first  place  it  was  not  true  that  my  poor  old 
father  had  ever  grieved  over  my  "indiscretions  and  reck- 
lessness in  these  transactions,"  for  he,  without  knowing 
whether  I  had,  or  had  not,  a  connection  with  the  Secret 
Society  of  the  Klan,  often  conversed  with  me,  at  table, 
or  elsewhere,  upon  the  impolicy,  wickedness  and  law- 
lessness of  the  "raids"  frequently  occurring  throughout 
the  South,  and  we  perfectly  agreed  that  they  should  be 
suppressed  as  they  could  not  result  otherwise  than  un- 
fortunately for  our  whole  section.  I  say  we  were  of  one 
mind  in  regard  to  this  whole  subject,  and  I  repeatedly 
assured  him  that  so  far  as  my  influence  went,  I  should 
exert  it  in  accordance  therewith.  My  father  doubtless 
mourned  at  times  over  my  intemperance;  but  he  knew 
that  I,  drunk  or  sober,  was  a  gentleman,  and  would  not 
be  guilty  of  galloping  over  the  county  at  night  in  a  red 
gown,  horns,  and  tail !  Col.  Fuller,  I  assume,  was  misled 
and  purposely,  by  a  couple  of  pettifogging  lawyers,  of 
the  up-country,  who  secretly  hated  me,  wished  me  out 
of  the  way — and  were  recently  angered  against  me  by 
the  free  comments  I  never  failed  to  make  on  their  pusi- 
lanimity,  and  meanness  in  refusing  their  legal  services, 
without  tremendous  fees  in  advance  to  poor  fellows, 


50  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

confined  in  jail,  and  without  a  dollar  in  their  pockets. 
I  assume  that  they  misled  the  Colonel,  because  he  did 
not  know  my  father — his  circumstances  or  anything 
about  him. 

The  appeal  was  a  fine  specimen  of  legal  rhetoric — 
very  touching,  and  all  that:  it  brought  tears  to  many 
eyes,  and  made  Col.  F.  quite  a  reputation.  But  how 
Judge  Bond,  and  Caldwell  and  Lusk  and  Justice,  and 
the  whole  posse  of  Mongrels  must  have  chuckled  for 
joy,  at  the  virtual  surrender  of  the  case,  and  admission 
that  their  charges,  and  lawless  procedure  was — Right! 

My  God!  the  recollection  cuts  me  to  the  heart  even 
unto  this  day! 

Why  did  I  not  then  and  there  repudiate  the  appeal? 
I  was  barely  able  to  stand,  my  brain  whirling,  a  thous- 
and eyes  staring  at  me,  and  a  feeling  of  utter  despair 
creeping  over  my  soul!  It  seemed  as  if  all  nature  was 
turning  against  me,  and  'twere  useless  to  struggle ! 

Col.  Fuller's  startling  words  were  still  ringing  in  my 
ears,  when  Bond  turned  to  Judge  G.  W.  Brooks,  of  the 
U.  S.  District  Court,  sitting  with  him  on  the  Bench  (a 
voluntary  participant  in  these  infamous  trials)  and  re- 
quested him  to  deliver  the  Judicial  charge  before  sen- 
tence. Brooks  began  to  read  from  a  paper  (showing 
that  everything  in  this  business  was  cut-and-dried)  of 
which  the  following  are  a  few  of  the  salient  points : 

"That  bad  men  should  now  be  found  to  violate  the 
law,  and  even  conspire  together  to  violate  the  law,  not 
only  by  attacking  the  most  sacred  rights  of  their  fellow 
men  [ !]  but  their  lives  also.  Not  only  so,  but  even  more, 
that  men  should  be  found  to  attack  in  this  way,  not  only 
those  around  them,  and  not  content  with  that  should 
attack  posterity  by  treasonable  acts  with  a  view  to  de- 
stroy a  government  which  had  never  punished  but  pro- 
tected them  [the  miserable  old  liar  knew  that  there  was 
not  one  word  of  truth  in  all  this,  as  even  the  suborned 
government  witnesses  admitted  that  each  member  of 
the  Klan  was  sworn  to  "uphold  and  defend  the  Consti- 
tution of  the  United  States!"]  is  not  a  matter  of  so  much 
surprise;  for  in  looking  into  history,  we  find  that  at  all 


The  Shotwell  Papers  51 

times  there  have  been  those  who  would  committ  such 
crimes.  .  .  . 

"That  this  association  should  have  existed  so  long, 
and  have  drawn  into  its  folds,  so  many  men  in  any  part 
of  our  State,  is,  we  say  without  hesitation,  the  most 
damning  blot  upon  the  character  of  our  State  that  his- 
tory records.  This  association  has  not,  so  far  as  the 
Court  can  discover  from  the  evidence  the  merit  or  ex- 
cuse that  vigilant  committees  ordinarily  have"  (what  a 
lie!)  "The  purpose  as  stated  by  a  majority  of  the  wit- 
nesses" [bought  and  paid  for]  "was  not  to  punish  crime 
(!),  or  any  acts  forbidden  by  law  [this  was  precisely 
what  it  was  for!]  but  in  the  language  of  the  witnesses 
[bought  and  paid  for!]  who  were  members  of  the  or- 
ganization, to  'put  down  the  radical  party  and  raise  up 
the  Democratic  or  Conservative  Party.'.  .  . 

"We  do  not  entertain  a  doubt  as  to  the  validity  of 
the  14th  and  15th  Amendments  of  the  Constitution; 
and  these  being  valid,  then  as  to  the  Act  of  July  31st, 
1870,  and  the  20th  of  April  1871 — they  also  are  valid. 
These  laws  oppress  no  one  but  are  only  so  framed  as  to 
secure  those  from  being  oppressed,  whom  the  more  pow- 
erful and  lawless  [we  may  add  the  evil-disposed]  may 
attempt  to  oppress." 

Probably  no  Judge,  making  a  deliberate  utterance 
from  the  Bench  ever  was  guilty  of  so  false,  malicious, 
spiteful,  and  utterly  wicked  an  attempt  to  manufacture 
evidence  to  misrepresent  and  defame  his  fellow  citizens, 
quote:  "A  peculiar  feature,  clearly  developed  by  the 
evidence  in  this  case  is  the  cool  and  deliberate  manner 
in  which  each  individual  member  of  the  Society  goes  to 
work  to  execute,  even  in  the  most  cruel  and  inhuman 
way,  the  orders  of  the  chiefs,  or  committees  of  the  Dens 
or  clans  by  torturing,  and  even  taking  the  life  of  a  fel- 
low being  for  no  higher  crime  than  the  exercise  of  a 
privilege  guaranteed  to  him  by  the  constitution  and 
laws  of  our  common  country:  that  is  to  vote  for  and  ad- 
vocate the  election  to  office  of  any  they  may  prefer  and 
for  reasons  satisfactory  to  themselves." 

Now  Judge  G.  W.  Brooks  in  assenting  that  the  "evi- 
dence clearly  developed"  that  "each  individual  member 


52  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

goes  about"  "taking  the  life,"  or  "torturing"  any  man  or 
men  "clearly  developed"  the  infamy  of  his  own  mind. 
The  evidence,  false  and  suborned  as  it  was,  did  not  show 
that  any  life  had  ever  been  taken  by  the  order  or  any 
of  its  members.  It  did  not  show  that  any  man  had  ever 
been  molested  for  his  political  [opinions?].  One  or  two 
instances  were  sworn  to  (falsely  I  am  sure)  where  men 
were  cursed  as  "Radicals"  just  as  men  in  anger  might 
say  the  "Damned  Democratic  thief"  the  politics  of  the 
rascal  being  merely  secondary  to  his  theft.  The  truth  is, 
in  the  South  since  the  advent  of  Brooks'  party  the  dif- 
ference between  Radicalism  is  so  imperceptible  that  to 
denounce  a  rogue  as  a  Radical  is  about  equivalent  to 
calling  him  a  rascal.  But  whatever  may  have  been  the 
operations  of  the  Klan  in  other  regions,  there  was  none 
even  of  the  shameless  "pukes"  who  did  Brooks'  and 
Bond's  bidding  that  dared  to  swear  the  object  of  the 
Klan  was  to  punish  men  for  their  political  opinions,  or 
that  any  man  ever  was  molested  solely  on  account  of 
politics.  Brooks,  therefore,  lied  and  disgraced  the  Bench 
by  seeking  to  twist  the  false  testimony  more  falsely  to 
make  the  northern  people  think  the  Klan  was  an  or- 
ganization to  maltreat  Republicans. 

A  BRUTAL  ATTACK  ON  AN  OLD  MAN 

I  have  said  that  the  appeal  for  mercy  gave  this  scoun- 
drel an  opportunity  to  insult  me,  and  my  aged  father. 
Here  is  a  specimen  of  his  insolence : 

"In  most  respects  it  was  cowardly,  base  and  devilish. 
And  especially  does  it  seem  to  have  been  so  on  the  part 
of  the  elder  Shotwell,  who  seemed  to  be  anxious  to  pre- 
pare himself  to  establish  his  innocence  [alluding  to  my 
published  letter  denying  in  toto  the  vile  accusations  of 
the  Mongrels]  when  in  fact  he  was  perhaps  the  most 
prominent  and  active  of  the  conspirators,  and  now  for 
him  niercy  is  asked.  If  some  good  spirit  hovering 
round,  or  a  pious  old  father,  had  whispered  in  his  ear 
the  language  of  the  poet — 

Lord,  that  mercy  I  to  others  show 
That  mercy  show  to  me — 
it  may  be  that  he  would  not  so  cooly  have  entered  into 
the  conspiracy  for  taking  the  life  of  a  fellow  being  for 


The  Shotwell  Papers  53 

such  an  offence.     Had  he  been  admonished  and  still 
conspired  then  he  was  indeed  as  one  lost." 

In  my  statement  of  the  testimony,  and  of  my  own 
connection  with  the  Klan  I  have  shown  how  utterly  false 
and  unjust  were  these  imputations,  specifically  and  gen- 
eral. But  neither  Bond,  nor  Brooks  in  the  conduct  of 
these  trials  showed  the  least  regard  for  decency,  justice, 
nor  truth.  Brooks  continued,  "The  prisoners  complain 
that  the  jurors  were  not  Democrats.  They  would  prob- 
ably have  complained  of  any  who  were  not  conspirators 
like  themselves." 

Here  is  another  lie.  The  prisoners  did  not  complain 
that  the  jurors  were  not  Democrats.  The  honest  por- 
tion of  the  community  did  complain  at  the  shame  and 
scandal  of  first,  discharging  the  regularly  paneled  jury 
because  it  would  not  suit  the  government  purposes ;  and 
second^  selecting  a  jury  composed  entirely  of  Radicals, 
and  not  content  with  Radicals,  adding  two  negroes,  mem- 
bers of  a  race  taught  to  regard  the  Klan  as  the  opponent 
and  suppresser  of  their  own  Leagues.  Besides  the  mar- 
shal confessed  he  consulted  the  prosecuting  attorney  as 
to  the  men  he  should  draw!  Think  of  a  public  pros- 
ecutor selecting  the  jury  to  try  cases,  and  picking  men 
of  his  own  party  to  try  men  accused  of  maltreating 
members  of  their  party!  But  Brooks  must  go  farther 
and  fling  venom  on  my  poor  brother  Addison  whom  the 
jury  had  acquitted  because  there  was  not  one  among 
the  depraved  "Pukes"  who  dared  swear  he  even  be- 
longed to  the  Klan.  I  say  it  with  the  testimony  be- 
fore me — there  was  not  a  word  implicating  him  in  any 
manner.  Yet  this  disgrace  to  the  Bench  says,  "If  any 
doubt  of  the  honesty  of  the  jurors  exists  it  should  be 
dispelled  after  the  acquittal  of  three  of  the  parties 
against  all  of  whom  there  was  evidence  of  such  a  char- 
acter as  renders  it  questionable  whether  they  should  not 
have  found  them  guilty  also."  What  right  had  the  old 
scoundrel  to  reflect  on  gentlemen  whose  little  finger 
contains  more  honesty  than  his  whole  carcass! 

Brooks  closed  by  a  gratuitous  fling  at  my  counsel 
composed  of  such  men  as  Judge  Fowle,  Gov.  Bragg, 
Geo.  V.  Strong,  F.  C.  Fuller,  and  others.     Truly  it 


54  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

was  a  "stump-speech"  from  the  Bench,  disgraceful  alike 
to  the  speaker,  and  the  government  which  employed 
him. 

SENTENCED 

At  the  conclusion  of  Brook's  harangue,  Bond  ordered 
me  to  stand  up,  and  state  anything  I  might  have  to  say 
in  mitigation  of  punishment. 

Nervous  and  sick,  I  felt  utterly  unable  to  go  into  the 
statement  I  intended  to  make.  Indeed  it  seemed  use- 
less; the  tide  ran  so  strongly  against  me  that  for  the 
moment  I  lost  the  clearness  to  see  I  ought  to  speak  for 
the  benefit  of  my  friends,  no  matter  if  it  made  no  impres- 
sion on  the  judges.  Perhaps  I  should  have  made  the 
attempt,  physically  weak  and  shaken  as  I  was,  had  not 
Col.  Fuller's  cruel  error  so  stunned  and  overwhelmed 
me.  Naturally  sensitive,  and  easily  wounded,  I  had 
been  for  weeks  in  a  state  of  deep  humiliation  and  des- 
pondency at  the  abandonment  of  my  acquaintances 
and  so-called  friends.  Only  a  very  few  persons  had 
paid  me  the  least  attention  during  the  month  I  lay  in  the 
filthy  prison  though  at  the  Yarborough  Hotel,  directly 
across  the  street  were  scores  every  morning  and  evening 
whose  faces  I  recognized,  and  for  whom  I  had  worked 
as  editor  of  the  party  papers  at  New  Bern,  Asheville 
and  Rutherford.  Again  I  had  noticed  that  those 
friends,  who  had  sent  little  delicacies  of  food  etc.,  before 
the  trial  instantly  ceased  thereafter  as  if  accepting  the 
verdict  of  a  packed  jury  and  crediting  the  lies  of  low- 
born scoundrels  who  were  forced  to  forswear  themselves 
by  threats  of  the  Penitentiary  on  the  one  hand  and  se- 
duced by  bribes  and  promises  on  the  other. 

All  these  things  gained  weight  and  significance  from 
the  excessively  bilious  condition  of  my  system  which 
as  is  well  known  tends  to  give  one  depressed  and  gloomy 
views  even  where  all  personal  affairs  are  in  good  trim. 
Hence  instead  of  a  lengthy  vindication  of  myself  and  a 
refutation  of  the  slanderous  stories  respecting  the  plans 
and  purposes  of  the  Klan,  I  simply  exclaimed,  looking 
the  Judges  in  the  eyes,  "The  testimony  against  me  in 
many  particulars  has  been  utterly  false ;  in  some  ridicu- 
lously false!" 


The  Shotwell  Papers  55 

Bond  then  said  that,  as  a  man  of  intelligence  and  a 
leader  in  the  organizations,  he  regarded  me  as  the  most 
guilty  of  all,  and  would  suffer  no  mitigation  in  my  case. 
(He  need  not  have  stated  it,  for  every  one  knew  the 
government  would  not  go  such  lengths  to  convict,  if 
it  had  not  determined  to  impose  the  full  penalty  of  the 
unjust  and  unconstitutional  law  passed  by  the  fanatics 
in  congress  for  the  very  purpose. ) 

Sentence:  "That  the  prisoner  be  imprisoned  with 
hard  labor  for  the  term  of  sice  years,  and  pay  a  fine  of 
five  thousand  dollars!" 

A  rustle,  and  murmur,  of  indignation,  or  approba- 
tion according  to  the  politics  of  the  spectator,  ran  around 
the  crowded  lobbies,  on  the  announcement  of  the  sen- 
tence but  there  was  no  outbreak  of  disgust  and  abhor- 
rence as  there  would  have  been  had  not  the  reign  of 
terror  reached  even  to  Raleigh,  and  the  clutches  of 
despotism  rested  upon  these  people,  who  once  were 
wont  to  boast  of  being  freeborn  and  inheritors  of  free 
speech ! 

"Remove  the  prisoner!"  cried  Bond,  whose  guilty  eyes 
seemed  to  quiver  under  my  steady,  contempuous  gaze. 
At  this  I  gave  him  an  ironical  bow,  and  followed  "Dep- 
uty" Scoggins  into  the  small  committee  room  on  the 
right  of  the  Judge's  Bench.  As  we  entered  I  said, 
"Will  vou  please  get  me  a  glass  of  water,  I  am  very 
sick?"  * 

"No!,  you  shan't  have  any  favors  here,"  growled  a 
rough  voice  behind  me,  and  as  I  recognised  Carrow,  the 
U.  S.  Marshal,  he  added — "You  think  you're  mighty 
big;  wouldn't  speak  to  me  this  morning;  I'll  know  how 
to  treat  you  hereafter."  "Sir,"  said  I,  "Wait  till  I  ask 
you  for  anything  before  you  refuse  me,  I  desire  no  favor 
at  your  hands." 

However,  after  he  had  left  the  room,  Scoggins  had 
the  decency  to  go  and  fetch  a  pitcher  of  water — the 
first  and  only  kindness  I  ever  had  or  wished  for,  from 
him.  Subsequently,  thinking  of  this  episode  I  recalled 
the  passage  in  Shakespeare 


56  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

"Par — Sir,  you  give  me  most  egregious  indignity 

Laf — Aye — with  all  my  heart,  and  thou  art  worthy 
of  it!" 

Amos  Owens  was  next  called,  and  given  the  same 
sentence  as  myself.  Mr.  Strong  urged  leniency  in  his 
case  as  he  was  a  middle  aged  man,  in  the  humblest  walks 
of  life,  and,  had  seven  or  eight  children  dependent  on 
him.  He  might  have  added  that  Amos  could  neither 
read  nor  write — and  actually  took  no  part  in  the  raid  of 
which  he  was  convicted,  though  perhaps  a  participator 
in  others. 

David  Collins  followed.  The  shameful  story  of  this 
old  man's  arrest,  after  having  fed  and  entertained  his 
captors,  their  enticing  him  away  from  home  on  pre- 
tence of  showing  them  the  road,  their  carrying  him 
away  40  miles  to  Rutherford  in  another  state,  leaving 
his  aged  wife  sick  in  bed  without  a  soul  to  wait  upon 
her,  his  subsequent  transfer  to  Raleigh  250  miles  from 
home,  where  he  was  dragged  to  trial  without  counsel, 
friends,  witnesses,  or  money,  or  education  to  teach  him 
how  to  make  his  own  defence,  his  conviction  notwith- 
standing that  the  only  evidence  against  him  showed 
that  a  party  of  wild  men,  one  night,  forced  him  by 
threats  of  a  whipping,  to  let  them  take  his  mule  and 
shotgun  to  go  on  a  raid ;  notwithstanding  all  this,  I  say, 
Bond  sentenced  him  to  four  years  at  hard  labor  and 
$500  fine! 

Collins,  uneducated  as  he  was,  half  crying,  and  bent 
with  the  weight  of  64  years,  retained  self-possession  to 
declare  (truthfully)  that  he  was  not  guilty,  that  he  was 
not  in  the  raid,  that  he  loaned  his  mule  and  gun  because 
he  could  not  help  it,  and  did  not  know  to  what  purpose 
they  were  to  be  put,  etc.,  and  he  would  not  have  justice 
if  punished.  How  Bond  must  have  grinned  internally 
at  this!  Externally  he  frowned,  and  said  angrily, 
"Well  you  belonged  to  a  den  that  has  run  every  decent 
man  out  of  Spartanburg,  and  I'll  not  mitigate  your 
case."  What  a  villainous  liar  he  was  can  be  testified 
in  Spartanburg  today,  where  as  everybody  knows  not 
one  single  "decent  man"  was  raided  out,  except  when 
Bond's  master  sent  his  Hessians  to  drive  innocent  men 


The  Shotwell  Papers  57 

into  exile  to  escape  lawless  punishment  such  as  he  was 
now  inflicting  on  Collins. 

Wm.  Scruggs  aged  47,  resident  of  Spartanburg — 
cannot  read  or  write — said  he  didn't  feel  guilty  but  was 
sentenced  to  3  years  at  hard  labor  and  $500  fine. 

Adolphus  DePriest,  aged  19  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  raid;  though  he  had  expressed  a  willingness  to  go 
with  his  neighbors  had  he  been  able  to  procure  a  horse. 
I  have  heard  men  who  were  on  the  raid  swear  that  he 
was  not.  Yet  he  was  sentenced  to  2  years  at  hard 
labor,  and  $500  fine.  (He  died  from  the  effects  of 
imprisonment  in  the  cold  Northern  Penitentiary.) 

J.  W.  Mclntyre,  aged  21,  can  read  and  write,  farm 
laborer,  was  sentenced  to  2  years  and  $500. 

George  Holland,  aged  23,  can  read  and  write,  married 
with  family  dependent  on  him.  Bond  remarked  that 
as  it  appeared  from  the  evidence  that  he  had  not  been 
on  the  raid  he  should  sentence  him  to  only  two  years  at 
hard  labor,  and  $500  fine!     Only  two  years! 

Wm.  Teal,  aged  25,  ignorant,  married,  with  two  chil- 
dren dependent  on  him.  This  man  was  seduced  by  the 
Mongrels  to  turn  state's  evidence  and  forswear  himself 
to  assist  in  convicting  some  of  his  own  acquaintance 
and  neighbors.  But  he  made  the  mistake  of  refusing 
to  swear  to  some  of  the  more  palpable  lies,  and  the  Mon- 
grels after  using  him,  brought  in  a  new  charge  and 
upon  this  he  was  now  sentenced  to  3  years  at  hard  labor 
and  $500  fine.  He  died  in  prison  as  will  be  hereafter 
stated. 

D.  B.  Fortune,  24  years,  after  swearing  to  me  priv- 
ately that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  raid,  became  a  "Puke," 
and  made  terms  for  himself.  Though  he  confessed  to 
being  on  the  raid  upon  Justice,  Bond  permitted  him 
to  go  with  a  sentence  of  sioo  months  in  his  own  county 
jail! 

Spencer  R.  Moore,  one  of  the  most  active  of  the  raid- 
ers, (Men  have  assured  me  that  Fortune  and  Moore 
were  the  most  troublesome  and  lawless  of  all  the  maraud- 
ers in  their  settlement)  also  confessed  or  "Puked,"  and 
received  the  same  mild  sentence — six  months  incarcera- 
tion at  home,  where  they  lived  at  ease,  comfort,  and 


58  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

plenty,  and  even  walked  about  on  parole !  Let  it  be  re- 
marked that  these  fellows,  like  many  others,  who  were 
similary  excused,  confessed  to  active  participation  in  the 
lawlessness,  of  which  myself  and  others  were  not  only 
innocent,  but  had  labored  to  suppress; — confessed  I 
repeat,  and  simply  because  they  confessed,  were  let  off 
with  a  comparatively  trivial  sentence.  Is  it  necessary 
to  add  the  explanation  of  this  action  of  the  government 
or  the  Mongrels,  for  the  Mongrels  managed  the  govern- 
ment side  of  the  trials  ?  The  design  was  to  induce  others 
to  confess ;  the  guilty  telling  all  they  knew,  and  the  in- 
nocent, manufacturing  testimony  against  others  equally 
innocent,  to  purchase  immunity  from  dreadful  Peni- 
tentiary! Alas!  as  time  rolls  on,  men  who  were  not 
spectators  of  this  wonderful  crusade,  will  deem  it  im- 
possible that  American  citizens  could  be  driven  to  such 
conduct,  or  yield  to  fear  so  abject.  But  the  fact  that 
I  write  this  four  years  after  the  occurence,  while  many 
spectators  and  participants  are  living  is  enough  to  con- 
vince my  readers  of  its  truthfulness.  Now  it  may  be 
said  the  government  had  a  right  to  show  clemency  to 
those  who  humbly  confessed  their  sins,  and  expressed 
penitence  therefore.  But  the  government  had  no  color 
of  justice  in  bribing  men  to  forswear  themselves.  That 
this  was  the  intent  of  Bond,  and  the  prosecution  will  be 
fully  shown  hereafter,  if  it  be  not  already  establishhed 
by  the  acts  of  the  government  "deputies."  Knowing 
that  the  ignorant  mountaineers  are  fondly  attached 
to  their  homes,  and  look  with  mortal  terror  on  any  such 
thing  as  a  long  imprisonment  in  a  distant  Penitentiary, 
Bond  imposed  the  full  weight  of  an  arbitrary  law  upon 
me,  and  others  while  at  the  same  time,  letting  off  those 
who  confessed  with  a  merely  nominal  punishment. 
Hence  every  one  of  the  accused  (there  were  thousands 
of  them)  had  the  choice  of  telling,  or  making  up  to  tell, 
a  specious  tale  implicating  as  many  new  men  as  possible 
(for  the  government  would  not  excuse  any  one  unless  he 
swore  against  some  one  not  criminated  by  other 
"Pukes")  as  the  means  of  escape,  or  of  standing  firm, 
and  being  dragged  off  to  Albany,  leaving  wife  and  little 
ones  to  starve,  and  perchance  dying  afar  in  the  icy  cell ! 


The  Shotwell  Papers  59 

What  wonder  that  so  many  succumbed,  and  with  sink- 
ing hearts  and  bowed  heads  took  upon  their  souls  the 
stain  of  perjury  and  treachery  to  their  friends!  Jef- 
freys, in  his  "Bloody  Assize"  adopted  the  same  method, 
and  actually  caused  hundreds  of  innocent  men  to  crimi- 
nate themselves  as  the  only  way  to  escape  death!  If 
they  confessed  or  "Puked"  the  Monster  might  simply 
imprison  but  if  they  proclaimed  their  innocence  he 
caused  them  to  be  convicted,  and  death  followed  next 
day. 

The  succeeding  days  were  full  of  mournful  misery. 
The  situation  was  particularly  irksome  to  me.  The 
entire  party  of  nine  adults  were  locked  in  the  one  small 
room,  of  which  about  a  third  was  rendered  unserviceable, 
by  leakage  from  the  slop-tub,  not  improved  by  copious 
distribution  of  lime  and  carbolic  acid.  Hence  there  was 
no  space  for  those  who  were  restless,  and  no  quiet,  or 
seclusion  for  those  who,  like  myself,  would  gladly  have 
sought  to  cheat  misery  with  sleep.  In  the  morning,  and 
at  meal  hour,  all  were  astir,  but,  there  being  nothing 
attractive  in  the  view  from  the  two  small  windows,  with 
their  sickening  pools  of  tobacco  spittle  and  other  filth 
outside  the  rusty  grating,  and  the  chill  wind  whistling 
through  the  unglazed  sashes,  it  generally  happened  that 
one  by  one  the  entire  party  went  to  bed.  How  I  en- 
vied those  who,  like  Scruggs  and  Collins,  could  neither 
read  nor  write,  therefore  felt  no  deprivation  of  intel- 
lectual occupation  or  amusement;  and  were  free  of  the 
mental  harassment,  the  vividness  of  imagination,  that 
would  not,,  and  could  not  be  made  to  lay  aside  its  pen- 
cillings  of  the  sombre  future,  and  cease  to  fill  my  soul 
with  horrible  forebodings!  To  them  the  seriousness  of 
our  situation  was  mainly  its  personal  discomfort,  its 
separation  from  friends,  its  prospect  of  physical  suf- 
fering. To  which  must  be  added,  also,  the  sense  of  bit- 
ter wrong,  and  grievous  injustice  done  to  us,  and  which 
all  felt  in  some  degree  varying  with  the  intelligence  of 
the  individual. 

Remembering  that  I  had  gone  forth,  in  the  morning, 
so  weak  and  sick  as  to  be  forced  to  lean  upon  the  arm 
of  one  of  my  keepers,  it  can  be  conceived  how  utterly 


60  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

prostrate  I  became  on  returning  to  the  fetid  atmosphere 
of  the  "Dark  Room"  after  all  the  day — Judge  Brooks' 
stump-speech  abuse,  and  Bond's  malicious  sentence!  I 
was  really  in  sore  need  of  medical  treatment,  but  after 
having  twice  asked  for  a  physician;  and  with  my  mind 
deeply  wrought  up  by  all  the  wrong  that  day  done  to 
me,  and  mine;  I  preferred  death  itself  to  any  further 
requests  of  my  captors.  It  is  proper  to  say  I  do  not 
know  who  was  to  blame  for  my  failure  to  obtain  medical 
attention.  It  may  have  been  the  negligence  of  the  physi- 
cian, or  he  may  not  have  been  notified  by  the  jailer. 
Many  of  our  requests  were  quietly  ignored  by  the  lat- 
ter, who  rarely  failed  to  promise,  but  often  to  perform. 
The  succeeding  one  or  two  days  are  a  blank  in  my  mem- 
ory, and  my  note-book  as  well;  our  little  party  were 
closely  "cribbed"  in  the  "Dark  Room"  getting  light  and 
air  from  two  small  windows  only,  and  they  darkened 
by  tin  sheeting  hoods,  on  the  exterior ;  so  that  the  wonder 
is  we  were  not  all  prostrated  by  fevers.  Some  days  later 
Maguire  consented  to  leave  open  the  heavy  plank  door 
between  the  room  and  the  Hall,  giving  us  more  ventila- 
tion, and  permitting  conversation  with  our  fellow  pris- 
oners in  the  other  room,  who  were  allowed  the  privilege 
of  the  Hall,  and  small  yard  around  the  jail.  After  4 
P.  M.  the  wooden  door  was  shut  upon  the  iron-lattice 
one,  leaving  us  to  half  suffocate  until  8  A.  M.  next  day. 

It  had  been  supposed  we  should  be  sent  immediately 
to  Albany,  but  as  day  on  day  elapsed  it  appeared  the 
authorities  were  awaiting  the  issue  of  Capt  Plato  Dur- 
ham's case,  expecting  to  augment  our  convoy  with  a 
number  of  other  well  known  Democrats  thereby  increas- 
ing the  effect  on  the  Northern  mind. 

My  indisposition  was  much  relieved  by  the  contents  of 
a  large  basket  most  unexpectedly  received  by  me  from 
the  young  wife  of  one  of  the  best-known  Republican 
State  officials  in  the  city;  a  daughter  of  another  office- 
holder, who  was  the  most  decent  of  our  carpet-baggers 
in  North  Carolina.  I  had  little  acquaintance  with  her, 
but  happened  one  night  in  1867  to  be  called  by  her  in 
mortal  terror  to  capture  a  negro  who  had  broken  into 
the  room  in  which  she,  her  sister,  nurse  and  child  slept. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  61 

I  of  course  seized  the  robber,  and  delivered  him  over  to 
the  hotel  watchman,  whereupon  the  ladies  were  quite 
profuse  in  their  expressions  of  thankfulness.  I  thought 
no  more  of  the  circumstance  until  now  came  this  token 
of  kind  remembrance;  bottles  of  champagne,  a  large 
chicken  pastry,  and  other  delicacies,  most  palatable,  and 
very  nourishing.  A  dainty  note  in  a  dainty  napkin  was 
full  of  womanly  sympathy  "To  sympathize  with  you 
is  futile — useless !  Keep  up.  Don't  allow  yourself  to  be- 
come discouraged,  or  despondent :  it  will  kill  you !  I  am 
glad  you  look  upon  your  sentence  in  the  light  you  ap- 
pear to  do.  You  are  young  and  be  thankful!  You  have 
health,  and  can  endure  any  punishment  those  dogs  of 
Judges  (pardon  the  language!)  may  put  upon  you. 
Let  me  know  if  there  is  anything  whatever  I  can  do  to 
add  to  your  comfort." 

Alas !  Poor  woman,  she  had  faults,  but  within  a  year 
after  this  note  she  sacrificed  her  life  for  others. 

An  editorial  in  the  Daily  Sentinel  commenting  upon 
the  trial,  etc.,  says: — 

The  liberty  of  the  citizen  is  well  nigh  if  not  alto- 
gether gone  when  he  is  arrested,  ironed,  imprisoned, 
and  transported  300  miles  for  trial,  especially  if 
he  is  a  poor  man  and  not  able  to  pay  his  witnesses  to 
follow  him  to  his  uncertain  place  of  trial.  Three  of 
the  defendants  [These  were  Bro.  Addie,  Wm.  Tan- 
ner, and  C.  Teal]  stand  acquitted  of  any  violation  of 
law  whatever.  Yet  they  have  been  punished  as  fel- 
ons, and  are  still  held  in  durance  the  vilest!  What 
says  the  Country?  What  says  Justice  to  this  Judi- 
cial Outrage! 

Small  use  to  appeal  to  Justice,  or  the  popular  indig- 
nation when  daily  and  hourly  the  most  abominable  acts 
of  tyranny  and  wrong  were  being  perpetrated  in  defi- 
ance of  either  Justice  or  humanity,  and  almost  without 
a  remonstrance,  save  by  a  few.  I  doubt  if  modern 
history — American  history  at  all  events,  can  furnish  a 
parallel  instance  of  as  general  and  as  complete  submis- 
sion to  governmental  oppression,  and  usurpation  of  per- 
sonal rights,  as  was  witnessed  in  North  Carolina  from 
July  to  January,  of  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1871.     The 


62  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

passage  of  the  Ku  Klux  Bill,  the  defeat  of  Amnesty,  the 
wholesale  and  lawless  arrests,  followed  by  shameless 
"confessions"  of  low-lived  fellows,  eager  to  swear  away 
the  liberty  and  reputation  of  any  man,  however  pure- 
lived,  who  chanced  to  incur  the  hatred  of  the  Grant 
rascals,  had  seemingly  paralyzed  the  manhood  of  thou- 
sands of  citizens,  even  of  those  who  were  never  in  any 
way  connected  with  secret  associations,  and  who  had 
fought  bravely  during  those  earlier  days  when  Grant 
was  directing  the  organized  hordes  of  hirelings  of  half 
the  world  to  obtain  the  power  of  this  very  trampling 
upon  legal  and  constitutional  rights. 

Sept.  29 — Maguire  was  accompanied  this  morning  by 
Rev.  J.  M.  Atkinson,  D.  D.  brother  of  Bishop  Atkinson 
of  the  Episcopal  Diocese,  and  pastor  of  the  Raleigh 
Presbyterian  church.  He  had  just  returned  from  Mar- 
ion, where  Mrs.  Neal  kindly  acquainted  him  with  the 
truth  in  my  case,  (and  that  of  brother  Ad)  leading 
him  to  call  to  pay  his  respects,  and  offer  his  services, 
whereinsoever  he  could  be  of  service.  I  suggested  that 
he  drop  a  line  to  father  who  will  be  almost  overwhelmed 
by  the  wrongs  that  are  being  heaped  upon  us.  I  am 
grateful  for  Dr.  A's  kind  attention. 

Basket  of  cake,  champagne  etc.,  from  "Incognito" 

who  says  Judge  Bond  was  invited  to  dine  at  the of 

but  the  moment  she  saw  him  enter  the  room  she  flounced 
out.  Who  would  think  that  among  the  enemy  I  have 
so  thoughtful  a  friend !  But  her  prediction  that  I  shall 
be  free  in  six  months  is  the  wish  fathering  the  thought. 
W — ,  too,  predicts  that  I  shall  return  in  a  few  months — 
and  doubtless  laughs  in  his  sleeve  at  the  knowledge  that 
the  months  will  lengthen  into  years  before  that  occurs. 

September  30th.  At  last!  At  last  the  malicious 
wretches  who  make  mockery  of  the  machinery  of  justice 
on  the  part  of  the  government,  have  released  my  inno- 
cent, foully  wronged  brother!  Oh!  Language!  you  fail 
me,  you  are  clumsy  and  meaningless,  to  portray  the 
villainy  that  is  being  practiced  by  the  Mongrels,  and 
their  abettors,  the  representatives  of  usurper  Grant. 
Look  at  the  facts.  On  the  30th  of  June,  three  months  ago 
this  night,  brother  Addison,  a  youth  of  little  [more  than] 


The  Shotwell  Papers  63 

20  years,  having  ridden  from  his  plantation  nine  miles  to 
the  village  to  inquire  the  truth  of  rumors  to  the  effect 
that  he  had  been  indicted  by  the  Grand  Jury  of  the 
Grant  Court  at  Raleigh,  was  walking  on  the  street 
when  two  Mongrels  (Deaver,  the  Asheville  Revenue 
fellow  and  Elias)  sprang  at  him,  with  pistols  covering 
his  breast,  and  marched  him  to  jail  without  warrant, 
without  examination  by  magistrate  or  commissioner, 
without  allowing  him  to  send  for  a  negro  to  take  his 
horse  off  the  street,  or  to  send  for  a  blanket  to  sleep 
upon,  when  thrust  in  a  filthy  stinking  hole  already 
crowded  by  similar  sufferers.  Here  for  two  months 
he  lay  without  examination,  without  bedding,  knives  or 
forks,  chair  or  table,  books  or  newspapers,  without  food 
or  water  in  satisfactory  quantity  or  quality,  and  sub- 
ject to  daily,  hourly  insults  from  his  jailors  and  other 
enemies.  During  these  months  his  plantation,  which  at 
the  time  of  the  arrest  gave  excellent  promise  of  a  crop, 
whose  lowest  valuation  was  $3000,  became  a  prey  of 
thieving  negroes,  including  the  hands  he  had  employed 
who  seeing  no  prospect  of  his  release,  stole  what  they 
could  and  left  the  place.  In  short,  the  crop  did  not 
return  the  seed  planted  in  the  spring.  The  loss  crip- 
pled him,  broke  him  up.  At  the  end  of  two  months 
he  was  handcuffed  to  a  chain,  with  myself  and  four 
others,  carried  to  Marion  confined  in  a  stinking  cage, 
with  a  common  thief,  without  bedding  or  even  a  clean 
floor  to  sleep  on,  without  water,  food,  or  air  in  sufficient 
quantities  (seven  men  packed  in  a  cage  8  by  10  feet). 
Sometimes  clawing  his  food  through  the  bars  of  the 
cage  like  monkeys,  etc. — then  carried  to  Raleigh,  300 
miles  from  home,  friends,  and  witnesses,  tried  with  a 
batch  of  14  others,  of  whom  he  knew  only  myself,  ac- 
cused by  false  witnesses,  of  being  at  a  place  he  never 
saw,  yet  so  perfectly  innocent  that  the  bribed  witnesses 
would  only  swear  they  heard  he  was  a  member,  but 
couldn't  recollect  where  they  heard  it,  and  finally  ac- 
quitted by  the  packed  jury.  No!  not  finally  for  his 
persecutors  were  not  done  with  him.  "We  have  other 
charges  against  him,"  said  Sam  Phillips  bristling  with 
rage  at  the  thought  of  losing  a  single  victim.     He  lied; 


64  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

there  were  no  other  charges  then,  but  the  vile  wretches 
hoped  the  severity  of  my  punishment  would  lead  many 
of  the  Ku  Klux  to  "confess"  and  furnish  evidence 
against  Addie.  Eight  days  have  passed  without  sup- 
plying the  testimony  desired,  and  this  evening  brother 
has  been  turned  loose.  "Get  your  things,"  said  Ma- 
guire,  "you  are  a  good  fellow  and  we  won't  keep  you  any 
longer."  So  he  is  free  and  en  route  for  home  at  this 
hour.  He  came  in  just  before  he  started  West  and 
was  in  high  spirits,  says  I  have  no  idea  how  public  feel- 
ing runs  outside  or  I  would  not  be  low  spirited.  Alas ! 
I  know  the  froth  of  a  passing  excitement. 

October  1st,  1871.  Still  locked  in  the  convict-room 
of  Raleigh  jail.  Rev.  Dr.  Lacy  called  yesterday,  but 
being  a  true  man,  and  gentleman,  was  forbidden  ad- 
mission. 

The  Daily  Sentinel  of  this  morning  contains  a  lead- 
ing editorial  on  Brother  Addison's  case,  denouncing  in 
broad  language  the  maltreatment  he  has  received  at 
Mongrel  and  governmental  hands.  True  he  has  been 
restored  to  liberty,  but  who  shall  restore  to  him  time 
lost,  crop  lost,  labor  lost,  health  and  spirits  lost?  Who 
shall  clear  his  name  from  the  stigma  of  the  dungeon 
and  the  shackles?  Who  recompense  him  for  liberty, 
comfort,  society  lost,  and  insults  sustained?  Oh  the 
mockery  of  the  so-called  freedom  and  justice  of  this 
country. 

Today  was  rendered  one  of  very  great  bitterness  of 
spirit  to  me,  among  other  things  by  a  package  of  ex- 
tracts from  an  unfriendly  newspaper,  kindly  clipped  for 
me  by  some  thoughtful  (?)  friend.  Number  one,  of 
the  clippings,  was  an  editorial  from  the  weekly  North 
Carolinian,  a  newspaper  just  issued  by  Maj.  W.  A. 
Hearne,  a  bosom  friend  of  Gov.  Caldwell  and  formerly 
editor  of  the  Radical  organ  under  its  various  names  of 
"Telegram"  "Era"  "Register"  etc.  The  tenor  of  the 
editorial  may  be  inferred  from  its  caption,  "STiotwell 
and  his  Accomplices" ;  and  from  its  opening  sentence, 
"The  general  sentiment  of  the  community  accepts  the 
punishment  of  Shotwell  and  his  accomplices  as  just  and 
reasonable"  To   add  poignancy  to  this   uncalled   for 


The  Shotwell  Papers  65 

disparagement  at  the  moment  of  my  melancholy  depart- 
ure from  the  State,  I  knew  that  a  very  large  edition  of 
the  paper  was  being  scattered  far  and  wide  by  the  pub- 
lishers to  introduce  the  "New  Democratic  Organ,"  and 
my  heart  ached  as  I  reflected  that  possibly  a  copy  might 
fall  into  the  notice  of  my  sorely  distracted  father. 

Now  if  I  did  not  know  that  Hearne  is  not  tolerated 
in  the  better  class  of  society  in  Raleigh,  and  moreover 
is  deemed  a  mere  mouth  piece  for  Governor  Caldwell 
who  hates  me  with  hatred  natural  in  a  man  of  his  narrow 
spirit,  after  being  publicly  exposed  by  me  in  an  act  of 
deliberate  falsehood  and  treachery  to  his  nearest  neigh- 
bors; if  I  did  not  know  Hearne,  as  I  do,  I  might  feel 
hurt  at  this  article,  which  so  foully  and  cruelly  mis- 
represents me,  and  will  spread  that  misrepresentation 
in  all  parts  of  the  state.  Happily  I  have  a  note  which 
says  that  notwithstanding  the  terrorism  that  prevails 
among  all  who  ever  had  any  knowledge  of  or  connected 
with  the  Klan,  there  are  few  who  do  not  despise  the  Mon- 
grels, and  denounce  the  Mongrel  Judges  in  unrestrained 
terms,  even  though  they  do  not  know  the  full  truth. 
Hearne  talks  about  my  "confederates"  and  "associates" 
though  he  must  have  heard  many  times  that  I  never  saw 
nor  spoke  with,  a  single  one  of  those  who  were  con- 
victed with  me  previous  to  being  locked  in  jail  with 
them!  Herein  my  enemies,  through  Judge  Bond,  had 
me  greatly  at  disadvantage  since  by  refusing  to  try  me 
separately,  and  including  me  in  a  batch  of  a  dozen,  some 
from  another  state,  some  from  another  county,  all  from 
a  different  community  than  myself  and  all  strangers  to 
me,  they  gave  the  impression  that  I  was  in  close  asso- 
ciation and  confederation  with  them,  and  was  the  direc- 
tor of  their  several  actions. 

Will  these  facts  ever  be  known  to  the  public?  Alas! 
I  fear  not.  It  may  be  I  shall  not  survive  the  long  years 
in  the  cold  northern  dungeons;  at  least  I  shall  return 
broken  in  health,  heart,  and  mind.  These  transactions 
will  pass  out  of  recollection  and  if  I  attempt  to  revive 
them  to  correct  them  and  lift  the  cloud  upon  my  own 
good  name,  people  will  charge  me  with  bitterness,  malig- 
nity raking  up  old  scores.  Oh!  the  injustice  that  re- 


66  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

quires  a  man  to  bear  a  load  of  infamy  simply  because  to 
vindicate  himself  demands  the  revival,  and  exposure  of 
former  villainies  by  men  whose  wealth  or  duplicity  has 
restored  them  to  a  measure  of  public  approbation! 

Amid  my  reproaches  of  those  cowardly  creatures  who 
give  me  the  cold  shoulder,  and  dare  not  visit  me  lest 
they  too  should  be  tainted  with  suspicion,  let  me  exempt 
that  honorable  and  steadfast  friend,  Capt.  Plato  Dur- 
ham, whose  efforts  in  behalf  of  the  helpless  and  innocent 
have  already  been  noted  in  these  pages.  Durham  is 
unceasingly  active  at  present  in  aiding  our  poor  fellows, 
borrowing  money  to  lend  them,  to  pay  their  board  while 
awaiting  trials,  or  to  return  home  if  acquitted  or  post- 
poned for  a  term.  He  has  been  a  friend  in  need  for 
many  a  poor  man — here  without  friends,  and  penniless 
as  well ;  and  he  alone  of  my  so-called  friends  has  adhered 
firmly  through  good  and,  also  evil,  report.  May  his 
kindness  recur  to  me  if  ever  I  am  in  condition  to  repay 
it. 

Let  me  remember,  also,  Dr.  G.  W.  Blacknall  of  the 
Yarborough  who  this  evening  has  repeated  his  thought- 
ful care  for  our  comfort  by  sending  a  tray  of  delicacies 
from  his  table.  My  companions  were  in  very  low  spirits 
from  having  nothing  since  3  o'clock,  and  the  evening 
being  dull,  gloomy  and  depressing  so  that  when  I  called 
all  to  come  up  and  partake  we  made  a  lively  party. 
Blacknall  is  styled  the  Prince  of  Hotelists — to  which  I 
shall  add  "Prince  of  Good  Fellows." 

I  have  forgotten  to  mention  that  yesterday  evening 
there  came  a  large  dish  of  fried  oysters  from  "an  un- 
known friend"  who  ordered  it  from  Pepper's  saloon. 
Who  my  friend  is,  I  cannot  conjecture;  though  circum- 
stances point  to  one  of  the  very  marshals  who  guarded 
me  to  and  from  my  trial.  Bro.  A.  told  me  he  was  told 
that  several  parties  had  sent  me  edibles,  which  were  re- 
turned by  the  jailor  without  my  knowledge  and  among 
them  a  tray  from  a  "deputy  marshal."  Strange  that 
men  of  that  ilk  should  feel  kindly  towards  persons  whom 
they  had  assisted  in  foully  wronging! 

Extract  Number  Two,  was  from  the  Newbern  Jour- 
nal of  Commerce,  printed  by  my  former  partner  Col. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  67 

Stephen  D.  Pool,  with  whom  I  had  originally  established 
the  paper.  The  article  professed  to  be  horrified  at  the 
"atrocities"  of  the  Rutherford  Klans,  and  after  regret- 
ting that  Shotwell  who  had  been  well  thought  of  in 
Newbern  at  one  time  had  sunk  so  low,  wound  up  with 
the  consoling  quotation — "The  way  of  the  transgressor 
is  hard" 

Col.  P —  doubtless  afterwards  regretted  his  haste  to 
accept  the  lies  of  perjured  "witnesses"  as  fact;  for  he 
sent  me  a  telegram  at  Charlotte  (on  my  return,  two 
years  later)  expressing  sympathy,  and  gratification  at 
my  release,  etc.,  etc. 

Indeed,  I  can  scarcely  blame  either  Pool  or  Hearne, 
because  they  as  editors  simply  stated  what  many  others 
were  saying  on  the  streets,  and  at  their  homes.  But 
this  only  adds  to  the  bitterness  of  the  blows  as  they 
fell  upon  me  in  that  hour  of  my  wretchedness ! 

Clipping  Number  Three,  was  worse  than  either  the 
others.  It  was  a  three  column  telegram  to  the  Wash- 
ington Chronicle,  written  by  A.  H.  Do  well,  formerly 
editor  of  the  Radical  and  Ring  organ  at  Asheville.  He 
was  one  of  half  a  dozen  fellows  ostensibly  "govern- 
ment stenographers,"  selected  by  John  Pool,  and  sent 
to  Raleigh  at  the  expense  of  the  National  Treasury,  to 
write  up  the  Ku  Klux  trials  as  campaign  documents 
for  the  Radical  party.  I  recognized  Dowell  among 
the  reporters,  and  nodded  to  him  pleasantly ;  for  though 
a  Radical  editor  he  had  come  to  me  at  Asheville  in  1870, 
and  gratefully  thanked  me  for  refusing  to  re-print  in  my 
paper  an  article  from  Brick  Pomeroy's  sheet  assailing 
his  personal  appearance  and  moral  character.  Several 
persons  brought  me  copies  of  the  Democrat  and  urged 
me  to  copy  the  article ;  but  I  invariably  replied  that  my 
opposition  to  the  Pioneer  and  its  editor,  was  upon  politi- 
cal and  moral  grounds  not  from  petty  or  personal  spite. 

For  this,  I  say,  Dowell  professed  to  be  exceedingly 
grateful  and  in  his  correspondence  from  Raleigh  he  takes 
care  to  repay  my  forebearance  of  the  previous  year  by 
slandering  and  maligning  me  in  all  manner  possible  to 
his  weak  brains.  After  misrepresenting  me  in  every 
way — misquoting  and   distorting  the  testimony  false 


68  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

though  it  is  at  best  and  exaggerating  the  cases  of  those 
tried  with  me,  that  the  reflection  may  be  cast  upon  me 
also — he  describes  me  as  a  young  man  of  splendid  pros- 
pect, good  social  and  political  standing,  some  talent, 
much  pride,  etc.,  who  having  descended  to  the  degra- 
dation of  a  sot,  and  consented  to  play  the  murderer  and 
midnight  marauder,  have  at  length  sunk  beyond  the 
recognition  of  gentlemen,  and  must  drag  out  my  mis- 
erable existence  a  disgraced,  despised,  abject,  felon — 
a  mark  for  scorn  to  point  its  unerring  finger  at,  etc.,  etc., 
etc. 

Ought  I  to  feel  annoyed  or  hurt  by  the  palpable  mal- 
ice of  the  insignificant  whelp  who  repays  my  forbear- 
ance by  manufacturing  downright  lies  to  slander  me? 
Reason  says  not:  yet  with  the  almost  total  desertion  of 
friends,  and  the  weight  of  six  years  sentence  to  the  Peni- 
tentary  upon  me,  it  is  difficult  to  restrain  the  mingled 
indignation  and  grief. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  here  to  mention  a  circumstance 
illustrative  of  Radical  Rule  that  about  the  time  the  Lit- 
tlefield-Swepson  Ring  began  to  put  in  operation  their 
schemes  for  swindling  the  state  of  six  or  seven  million 
dollars  on  the  Western  Railroad,  that  the  Pioneer,  Dow- 
ell's  paper  became  suddenly  very  rich;  being  well  sup- 
plied with  all  kinds  of  material,  and  with  means  to  meet 
expenses.  Journalism  in  small  towns  is  far  from  lu- 
crative, and  people  marvelled  that  the  little,  red-eyed, 
fellow  of  the  Radical  sheet  should  prosper,  when  it  was 
well  known  scarcely  anybody  ever  subscribed  for  it. 
The  secret  he  revealed  in  1876,  in  a  long  letter  to  the 
Raleigh  Sentinel  from  which  I  extract. 

....  When  I  first  met  Swepson,  he  had  just  been 
appointed  president  of  the  Western  North  Carolina 
railroad,  and  I  believed  him  to  be  honest.  I  was 
a  republican,  and  as  an  editor  of  a  republican  organ, 
when  the  Sentinel  assailed  my  party,  I  defended 
it.     And  when  I  assailed  the  ring  in  1870 

My  Destiny  Was  Sealed 
in  North  Carolina.  I  had  to  leave  the  state  for 
I  had  incurred  the  displeasure  of  the  magnates  of 
the  republican  party  who  were  also  the  magnates 


The  Shotwell  Papers  69 

of  the  ring.  When  in  Asheville,  Littlefield  entered 
the  Pioneer  office  one  day  and  said:  "Dowell,  you 
want  a  power  press,  a  nice  job-press,  and  a  new 
lot  of  type.  Now  make  out  an  estimate  and  send 
it  to  me  and  I  will  send  you  material  for  as  fine  an 
office  as  there  is  in  the  state."  I  replied  that  I  had 
a  good  office  and  didn't  wish  to  incur  further  lia- 
bilities. "Oh,  never  mind  about  that,  you  can  have 
what  you  want,  and  pay  me  back  in  twenty  years 
if  you  can;  and  if  you  cannot,  you  need  never  do 
so,"  said  the  general.  Then  my  eyes  were  opened, 
and  I  began  to  look  with  suspicion  upon  the  newly 
elected  president  of  the  W.  N.  C.  R.  R.  I  had  no 
idea,  however,  that  the  man  was  so  corrupt  as  he 
was  afterwards  proven  to  be,  yet  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  there  are  in  the  state  to-day  worse  men  than 
Milton  S.  Littlefield.  There  are  a  number  of  lea- 
ders in,  the  party  in  the  state,  who  if  they  had  the 
opportunity,  would  prove  themselves  to  be  as  venal 
and  corrupt  as  Littlefield  or  Swepson. 

Some  one  will  express  astonishment  that  the  writ- 
er should  utter  such  sentiments.  I  am  free  to  con- 
fess that  I  never  dreamed  a  few  years  ago  that  I 
should  be  a  democrat.  I  prefer  to-day  to  stand  on 
independent  ground;  but  I  am  of  the  [line  missing] 
I  was  a  republican  solely  from  principle,  and  when 
I  found  all  principle  had  left  the  party,  I  left  it  too. 
It  was  not  because  my  generous  (?)  republican 
friends  in  North  Carolina  gave  all  the  offices  to 
newly  pledged  republicans,  carpet-baggers,  un- 
principled natives  and  negroes,  to  the  exclusion 
of  honest,  original  union  men,  that  I  became  what 
I  am;  nor  was  it  because  ,  when  I  applied  to  Presi- 
dent Grant  for  a  minor  foreign  consulship  I  did 
not  get  it,  while  men  like  Hester,  Bergen  and  others 
were  favored,  that  I  changed  my  colors.  No,  for 
I  believed  until  a  few  years  ago,  that  Grant  was 
honest  and  that  his  advisers  were  not.  But  alas! 
what  do  we  now  .... 

It  will  be  observed,  Dowell  mentions  the  offer,  but 
forgets  to  say  he  accepted  it,  though  he  may  consider 


70  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  "good  word"  given  Littlefield  will  keep  him  quiet. 
October  2nd.  It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that 
Hearne's  assault  upon  me  is  due  to  my  connection  with 
the  Sentinel  in  times  past.  He  hates  Josiah  Turner, 
the  present  editor  with  a  most  inveterate  hatred,  and  I, 
as  a  friend  of  Turner's,  come  in  for  a  share.  I  have 
been  thinking  of  an  address  to  the  public  stating  my 
connection  with  the  Klan,  detailing  the  outrages  put 
upon  me  by  personal  and  political  enemies  under  the 
forms  of  law,  and  appealing  to  all  honorable  persons 
to  withhold  judgment  until  I  am  free  to  vindicate  my- 
self. But  I  have  so  often  appeared  in  print  of  late 
that  it  will  seem  as  if  I  am  desirous  of  seeing  myself  in 
type.  Besides  there  are  hundreds  of  poor  wretches 
awaiting  trial,  whose  cases  may  be  prejudiced  by  any 
publication  I  might  make.  Already  it  is  said  by  the 
cringing  and  terrified,  that  "Shot well  is  doing  us  harm 
as  well  as  himself  by  his  defiant  and  outspoken  manner. 
He  ought  to  be  more  politic  for  the  sake  of  others  if 
not  for  himself.  What  is  the  use  of  enraging  the  Radi- 
cals by  charging  them  with  their  acts?  Let  the  matter 
rest  until  after  while  when  we  get  out  of  their  power," 
etc.,  etc. 

Is  this  not  sickening,  disheartening !  Think  of  innocent 
freehorn  men  thus  cringing  under  outrageous  wrong 
without  daring  to  so  much  as  declare  their  innocence  in 
a  manly  manner!  True,  such  declaration  and  just  re- 
sentment, is  sure  to  be  punished  by  increased  insolence, 
insult  and  abuse  but  ought  an  honest  man  to  be  deterred 
by  that! 

Much  as  I  am  pained  to  reflect  upon  my  fellow  citi- 
zens and  men  of  my  own  political  party,  I  must  state 
that  from  the  inception  of  these  troubles  many  of  the 
most  influential  citizens  have  not  only  "courted"  the 
Mongrels,  but  have  counselled  all  the  accused  persons 
innocent  or  guilty  to  "keep  quiet,  keep  easy,  don't  do,  or 
say  anything  to  offend  the  Radicals,  better  tell  all  you 
know,  pretend  to  be  friendly  with  the  officers  and  don't 
try  to  expose  their  arbitrary  acts.  It  will  do  no  good, 
and  will  keep  you  in  jail  much  longer." 

Such  was  the  advice  given  by  lawyers,  ( J.  L.  Carson 


The  Shotwell  Papers  71 

B.  F.  Churchill,  G.  M.  Whitesides,  and  others)  to 
scores  of  uneducated  and  frightened  men,  who  hastened, 
in  accordance  therewith,  to  Mongrel  Logan's  office,  and 
revealed  the  names  of  all  whom  they  knew,  or  had 
heard,  belonged  to  the  Klan,  thereby  bringing  into  trou- 
ble hundreds  of  men  whose  only  crime  was  a  nominal 
membership,  in  a  secret  order  like  the  Knights  of  the 
Golden  Circle  or  the  Union  League.  I  must  cease  to 
think  of  these  things ;  my  heart  is  already  heavy  enough. 
I  forgot  to  mention  that  yesterday  Robert  M.  Logan 
and  J.  B.  Carpenter,  editors  of  the  Mongrel  organ  in 
Rutherford  came  to  see  me,  and  on  entering  the  room 
remarked  that  they  heard  I  wished  to  see  them.  I  re- 
plied interrogatively. 

"Who  said  I  wished  to  see  you?" 

"Never  mind,"  said  Carpenter,  "But  now  that  we  are 
here  I  should  like  to  talk  with  you  about  this  peniten- 
tiary matter.  We  hate  to  see  you  going  off  up  there  to 
stay  six  years — especially  as  we  know  you  never  made 
anything  by  the  Klan,  and  we  hate  to  see  you  punished 
and  all  the  big  bugs  get  free,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  Now  the 
best  thing  for  you  is  to  come  out  and  tell  all  you  know — 
you  see  we  don't  want  to  convict  all  these  ignorant  fel- 
lows ;  we  want  the  big  bugs  like  Jo  Turner,  Matt.  Ran- 
som, Dave  Schenck  and  Durham,  and  I  can  tell  you 
from  Gov.  Caldwell — he'll  stand  up  to  what  we  say — 
if  you'll  come  out  and  do  what  we  want  you'll  not  have 
to  go  to  prison  at  all." 

"Who  do  you  want,"  said  I. 

"Well  the  leaders — the  big  bugs.  We  want  Jo  Tur- 
ner particularly,  such  men  as  him." 

"So  you  want  me  to  puke?"  asked  I. 

"Yes,  that  is  what  the  boys  call  it,  I  believe." 

"Well  you'd  better  leave  here  right  quick  or  I  shall 
puke — and  the  other  way." 

Poor  Human  Nature  is  sadly  weak!  The  stress  of 
social  customs,  and  hereditary  ideas,  is  too  great  for  the 
independence  of  ordinary  mortals.  It  did  not  much 
surprise  me  when  the  first  fruits  of  the  farce  of  my  so- 
called  "trial"  proved  to  be  the  withdrawal  of  sundry 
small  attentions  and  kindnesses  of  friends,  known  and 


72  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

unknown,  in  the  city.  I  had  not  many  acquaintances  in 
Raleigh  at  the  time,  but  there  were  scores  and  hundreds 
of  members  of  the  Order  then  in  attendance  upon  the 
courts,  who  might  have  shown  me  some  small  manifesta- 
tions of  sympathy  and  esteem,  to  relieve,  in  slight  meas- 
ure, the  darkness  and  bitterness  then  so  heavy  with  me. 
It  was  easy  to  see  that  Public  Opinion,  judging  solely 
from  surface  appearances,  had  accepted  them  as  con- 
clusive against  me.  It  mattered  not  that  my  convic- 
tion was  pre-determined  even  before  my  unlawful  arrest ; 
that  the  instruments  of  my  ruin  were  to  be  the  dregs  of 
the  backwoods,  men  whose  own  neighbors  would  not 
believe  upon  oath  in  the  small  affairs;  that  the  Judge 
was  an  unscrupulous  and  ambitious  partizan,  selected 
and  assigned  for  the  special  purpose  of  seconding  the 
deeds  of  a  gang  of  lawless  agents,  and  a  packed  jury; 
that  the  partizan  Attorney- General,  with  all  the  zeal 
of  a  renegade,  came  to  Raleigh,  and  stood  behind  the 
back  of  the  Judges  to  cast  the  whole  weight  of  the  gov- 
ernment against  the  prisoners;  that  the  Scalawag  gov- 
ernor of  the  State  sat  by  the  side  of  the  prosecuting 
attorney,  a  man  whom  I  had  caned;  and  that  from  all 
the  history  of  my  life  there  was  a  continued  protest 
against  the  concocted  lies  of  my  enemies ;  none  of  these 
things  were  taken  into  account ;  it  was  enough  that  there 
had  been  a  trial,  that  twelve  men,  (no  matter  if  all  were 
Republicans,  and  two  of  them  negroes,  naturally  em- 
bittered against  the  Klan.)  had  sat  as  a  jury,  had  found 
a  verdict  of  "Guilty,"  and  that  the  severest  sentence 
allowed  by  law  had  been  imposed!  So  the  majority,  or 
at  least  a  large  minority  of  the  community  in  speaking 
of  the  results  of  the  trial,  and  expressing  sympathy 
probably  said,  "Well,  I  pity  Shotwell;  I'd  like  to  see 
that  fellow  Bond  and  Jim  Justice  tried  together,  and 
horse  whipped  to  Albany ;  but  after  all  there  is  no  doubt 
that  Shotwell  and  his  crowd  have  been  acting  reck- 
lessly, and  inexcusably:  they  deserve  some  punishment, 
though  it  was  easy  to  see  most  of  those  witnesses  were 
lying"  etc.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  state,  however,  that  the 
public  generally  were  not  so  much  to  blame  for  their 
mistaken  judgments  because  at  that  time  the  real  facts, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  73 

and  the  real  designs  of  the  men  who  manufactured  my 
ruin,  were  but  imperfectly  known  especially  in  the  mid- 
dle and  eastern  sections. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  my  trial  was  the  first  under 
the  unconstitutional  Ku  Klux  Act,  the  first  Ku  Klux 
trial,  in  short,  and  as  my  case  was  peculiar  in  many  re- 
spects, and  as  not  the  least  attempt  at  defence  was  made, 
except  upon  legal  grounds,  it  was  natural  for  many 
persons  to  go  by  the  mere  surface  signs.  Moreover  I 
am  obliged  to  state  that  the  cue  given  out  by  the  Demo- 
cratic leaders  at  that  time  was,  "Hush!  Hush!  Don't 
say  anything  harsh  against  the  Radicals!  Don't  let 
them  identify  the  Democratic  Party  with  the  Klan,  else 
they'll  heap  all  sorts  of  odium  upon  us,  and  it  will 
utterly  ruin  us  up  North  where  they  think  the  Ku  Klux 
are  fiends !  Do  keep  quiet !  Let  everything  be  as  still 
as  possible;  Let  these  young  men  go  to  prison  for  a 
few  months;  it  won't  hurt  them,  and  when  all  is  quiet, 
we'll  get  them  out.  Better  seem  to  denounce  the  Klan 
till  all  gets  quiet!"  etc.,  etc. 

I  do  not  exaggerate  this ;  it  was  so  and  worse !  There 
were  men  who  were  far  more  responsible  for  the  in- 
troduction and  spread  of  the  Order  than  was  I,  who 
yet  turned  a  cold  shoulder  to  us  all,  when  the  danger 
came,  and  professed  to  be  "always  found  on  the  side 
of  Law  and  Order,"  men  who  said,  "I  pity  those  reck- 
less young  fellows,  but  after  all  they  brought  it  upon 
themselves ;  we  must  stand  by  the  Courts !"  There  were 
editors  who  themselves  had  been  members  of  the  Order, 
and  who  only  a  few  months  prior  to  my  arrest  printed 
the  flag — surmounted — floating  world  at  the  head  of 
their  columns  with  the  legend  "  Our  Country"  the  pass- 
word of  the  Order,  yet  who  spoke  of  my  conviction  as 
another  illustration  of  the  text,  "The  way  of  the  trans- 
gressor is  hard." 

It  was  this  truckling  to  our  foes  that  disgusted  Cap- 
tain Plato  Durham,  and  led  him  to  listen  to  proposals 
for  the  rescue  of  his  suffering  county  men.  Several 
times  he  repeated  to  me  with  indignant  bitterness  his 
experience  with  certain  of  the  Democratic  leaders  who 
had  enjoyed  the  fruits  of  the  Klan  operations  at  the 


74  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

only  time  they  ever  assumed  a  general  political  hue, 
and  who  then  patted  the  young  men  upon  the  back, 
bidding  them  go  right  on  with  their  good  works,  but 
who  when  the  trouble  came,  withheld,  with  almost  con- 
tempt, that  open  support  and  countenance  which  was 
alone  necessary  to  save  the  state  from  ruin.  But  per- 
haps I  may  as  well  give  a  portion  of  Capt.  Durham's 
own  language  in  this  connection.  Speaking  of  my  re- 
ported release  in  1873,  he  writes  editorially  in  the  Cleve- 
land Banner;  "If  Capt.  Shotwell  has  the  sense  we  think 
he  has  he  will  not  now,  or  hereafter  allow  his  name  and 
misfortunes  to  be  taken  advantage  of  by  a  set  of  spav- 
ined worn  out,  selfish  politicians,  who  patted  on  the  back 
the  young  men  of  the  State  ,and  encouraged  the  secret 
organizations  so  long  as  all  was  flourishing,  and  politi- 
cal preferment  their  object;  but  who,  as  soon  as  trouble 
came,  folded  their  arms  in  virtuous  indignation,  and  al- 
lowed scores  of  young  men  to  be  driven  into  the  Peni- 
tentiary, like  sheep  into  the  Slaughter-Pen,  and  the  whole 
country  well-nigh  broken  up  and  ruined,  without  con- 
tributing a  dollar  or  raising  a  finger  to  prevent  it,"  He 
further  remarks,  "No!  Capt.  Shotwell  is  not  the  man!" 

Capt.  Durham  frequently  talked  with  me  in  a  similar 
strain,  and  certainly  gave  strong  grounds  for  his  indig- 
nation; giving  me  names  and  incidents  of  the  conduct 
of  certain  high  officials,  and  leading  personages,  which 
pained  me  exceedingly,  and  would  probably  cause  not 
a  little  surprise  (to  use  a  mild  term)  if  now  made  public. 
As  for  instance,  in  talking  with  Capt.  D,  on  the  hotel 

porch  at  Shelby  in (at  which  time  I  had  gone 

there  to  deliver  an  address  upon  the  Life  and  Crimes 
of  Jeffreys),  I  remarked  that  Genl.  D.  H.  Hill  had 
mentioned  to  me  a  curious  conversation  he  had,  while 
traveling  on  the  cars  with  a  distinguished  functionary 
of  the  State,  who  if  not  a  member  of  the  White  Broth- 
erhood, at  least  knew  of,  and  profited  by,  its  operations. 
Said  the  Honorable  State  Func.  aforesaid,  "All  the 
trouble  grows  out  of  that  blasted  fool,  Randolph  Shot- 
welVs  work,  and  I  should  like  to  see  him  get  ten  years 
in  the  lock-up  for  it."  "Why  that,"  said  Durham,  "was 
mild,  in  comparison  with  some  remarks  about  you  that 


The  Shotwell  Papers  75 

I  have  heard.  I  remember  resenting  just  such  a  sneer 
at  you  a  day  or  two  before,  or  after,  you  went  to  Albany ; 
I  now  forget  which.     But  it  was  in  the  Hall  of  the  Yar- 

borough  at  Raleigh  and remarked  "if  Shotwell 

and  his  crowd  hadn't  kicked  up  all  this  rumpus,  and 
given  the  Radicals  the  chance  to  fill  the  State  with 
Yankee  troops,  there  would  be  some  chance  to  carry  it." 
Then  I  turned  on  him,  and  the  party,  and  tongue-lashed 
them  well!  I  said — "So  and  So,  you  know  you  were 
elected  through  the  efforts  of  the  Klan?"  And  he  had 
to  admit  it,  for  you  know  those  counties  were  always 
manipulated  by  the  Radicals  until  the  White  Brother- 
hood spread  there.  "And,  So  and  So,  you  know  well 
how  glad  you  were  to  have  the  efforts  of  the  young  men 
in  your  behalf;  and  now  when  outrage  and  persecution 
are  heaped  upon  us  through  no  fault  of  ours,  you  stand 
aloof,  nay,  you  help  to  deepen  the  damage  and  ruin 
by  sneering  at  young  men  like  Shotwell,  who  had  no  bet- 
ter sense  than  to  spend  his  best  years,  and  incur  legions 
of  enemies,  just  to  elect  such  selfish  politicians  as  you, 
and,  you,  and  you,  (pointing  to  persons)  when  he  had 
nothing  to  gain,  nor  to  hope  for !"  "Oh !"  said  Durham, 
with  indignant  emphasis,  "I  could  hardly  restrain  my- 
self from  really  denouncing  them ;  for  you  know  it  only 
needed  a  little  money  to  squelch  the  whole  trouble,  and 
these  fellows  wouldn't  give  a  penny  toward  it!" 

"How  was  that?  Tell  me  all  about  that!"  I  asked. 
I  had  heard  rumors,  and  knew  one  or  two  corroborative 
facts;  but  as  a  prisoner  at  the  time,  of  course,  could 
have  no  definite  knowledge. 

Capt.  Durham  then  stated,  in  effect,  (and  I  made  a 
note  of  his  remarks  before  going  to  bed  that  night) 
that  during  the  progress  of  my  trial,  shortly  before  the 
jury  were  sent  out,  but  after  it  had  become  manifest 
the  Government  had  everything  cut  and  dried,  CM. 
Farris,  the  then  keeper  of  the  Capitol  came  to  one  or  two 
of  my  counsel,  and  stated  that  two  of  the  jury  were 
open  to  convincement  and  would  "agree  to  disagraee," 
as  the  doctors  say,  if  the  sum  of  four  thousand  seven 
hundred  dollars,  should  be  located  in  cash  somewhere 
within  reach  of  their  fingers !     And  when  subsequently 


76  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

it  was  seen  that  this  sum  could  not  be  raised,  it  was  said 
that  the  round  $4,000  in  cash  would  answer  the  purpose ! 

Durham  made  an  effort  to  obtain  the  money.  It  is 
not  at  all  desirable  here  to  give  all  that  he  narrated  to 
me.  Suffice  it  that  one  noble  old  Roman,  (whom  I 
shall  hold  in  honor,  though  we  meet  no  more)  met  the 
issue  as  promptly  as  it  needed  to  be  met,  saying,  "Gen- 
tlemen, I  am  a  poor  man,  mainly  dependent  upon  my 
earnings  from  year  to  year;  but  here  is  my  check  for 
one-tenth  the  amount."  And  he  drew  a  check  for  $400. 
requesting  Capt.  Durham  to  have  it  cashed. 

"Little  did  I  expect  ever  to  engage  in  the  bribing  of 
a  jury,"  said  this  patriotic  citizen,  "But  I  believe  in 
this  instance  we  are  justifiable,  morally,  if  not  otherwise. 
It  is  very  plain  that  the  twelve  Radicals  up  yonder  in 
the  Capitol  are  not  a  just  and  righteous  jury  and  were 
not  meant  to  be  when  drawn.  I  believe  they  have  been 
selected  to  convict  those  young  men  regardless  of  right, 
reason,  or  common  decency;  and  it  is  no  less  plain  that 
this  farce  of  a  trial  is  to  be  the  opening  wedge  for  the 
wholesale  conviction  of  our  people  of  every  class  and 
condition  until  this  State  shall  be  safely  handed  over 
to  Grant.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  the  Government  has 
put  forth  all  its  power  and  money  to  convict  Shotwell 
and  the  others.  We  see  Bond  and  Brooks  both  on  the 
Bench;  we  see  Lusk,  and  that  fellow  Justice  assisted 
by  expensive  counsel,  Sam  Phillips,  Marcus  Erwin, 
and  others,  and  Attorney-General  Ackerman  at  their 
elbows ;  we  see  Caldwell  daily  on  hand  to  cast  his  scowls 
against  the  prisoners;  and  we  know  that  the  bribe  of 
pardon  has  been  offered  for  months,  in  addition  to  jing- 
ling gold,  to  any  low-born  creature  who  would  make  up 
a  lie  against  our  clients.  Nobody  doubts  the  fitness  of 
the  jury  to  complete  the  long  planned  plot.  Now,  if 
we  fight  the  Devil  with  his  own  weapons,  and  make  a 
mis-trial  what  will  be  the  result?  The  whole  matter 
must  go  over  to  the  next  term,  and  there  is  no  telling, 
what  may  turn  up  meanwhile.  My  own  belief  is  that 
the  Grant  gang,  after  seeing  their  carefully  pre-ar- 
ranged schemes  so  signally  fail,  after  all  precautions, 
and  with  a  picked  jury,  will  give  up  the  attempt  to 


The  Shotwell  Papers  77 

carry  out  their  plan  of  forcible  capture  of  the  state. 
Whereas  if  they  succeed  in  this  deep-laid  plot  they  will 
within  a  few  weeks  run  six  thousand  to  ten  thousand 
of  our  young  men  out  of  the  State,  and  steal  our  elec- 
toral vote  by  20,000  majority.  Therefore  as  a  well- 
wisher  of  North  Carolina,  and  an  advocate  of  justice, 
I  will  deny  myself  Bread  rather  than  allow  Grant  and 
Bond  to  carry  out  their  wicked  schemes." 

One  or  two  other  gentlemen  spoke  in  the  same  strain, 
but  there  were  others  who  not  only  hung  back,  but  also 
sought  to  dampen  the  ardor  of  the  more  patriotic  and 
public-spirited  by  saying  that  perhaps  it  was  a  trick  of 
the  Radicals  to  implicate  our  Democratic  leaders,  etc. 
Durham  replied  that  he  alone  would  be  known  in  the 
matter,  and  he  would  shoulder  the  responsibility.  Then 
the  prudent  ( ? )  -pocketed  ones  said  it  were  better  to 
wait;  that  $4000  was  a  considerable  sum;  that  probably 
there  would  be  no  more  trials ;  that  the  government  pos- 
sibly merely  wished  to  set  an  example,  and  would  rest 
the  prosecutions  now  that  all  was  quiet;  and  as  for 
Shotwell,  it  would  do  the  young  man  good — would 
learn  him  a  lesson  in  common-sense  and  discretion  if 
he  were  locked  up  for  a  year  or  two,  etc.,  etc.  This  sort 
of  talk  greatly  enraged  the  brave  Durham. 

"You  will  see  what  will  follow  this  trial!"  he  cried. 
"You  will  find  it  merely  the  first  shot  of  a  roar  of  guns 
that  will  rake  and  ruin  our  state !  I  tell  you,  you  do  not 
dream  of  the  effect  that  will  be  produced  if  our  people 
up  in  the  west  get  to  see  that  they  are  to  be  dragged 
down  here,  and  convicted  in  droves,  by  a  packed  court, 
without  any  effort  to  save  them,  by  those  who  have 
means  and  influence." 

Durham  realized  the  situation  more  clearly  than  they ; 
and  to  use  his  own  language,  "When  I  saw  men  who 
had  encouraged  secret  associations  so  long  as  all  was 
flourishing  and  safe,  now  standing  back  with  folded 
arms,  in  virtuous  indignation  allowing  scores  of  young 
men  to  be  driven  into  the  Penitentiary  like  sheep  into 
a  slaughter  pen,  and  the  whole  country  well  nigh  broken 
up  and  ruined,  without  contributing  a  dollar,  or  raising 
a  finger  to  prevent  it,  I  determined  to  spend  all  I  had 


78  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

in  the  defense,  and  care  of  our  friends,  and  then  look 
out  for  Number  One." 

Can  any  one  blame   him?     I  cannot! 

So  the  negotiation  failed:  the  emissary  of  the  jury 
returned  disappointed;  and  the  impending  thunderbolt 
descended  upon  my  devoted  head.  It  is  hard  to  re- 
flect that  were  I  not  a  poor,  comparatively  friendless, 
youth,  I  might  have  been  walking  the  streets  of  Raleigh 
a  free  man!  That  for  a  pitiful  $4,000.  I  might  have 
escaped  six  years  of  ignominious  confinement,  and  the 
odious  epithet  of  "Penitentiary  Convict."  Truly,  in 
this  land,  justice  is  a  merchantable  commodity:  and  Pov- 
erty a  crime. 

In  truth  the  whole  conduct  of  the  Democracy,  at  that 
critical  period  was  cowardly,  or,  let  us  say,  over-cautious 
and  ill-judged.  No  wonder  that  after  a  year  of  time- 
serving squirming  to  escape  the  Radical  taunts  of  a 
paternal  interest  in  the  klans,  they  should  cap  the  cli- 
max of  subservient  truckling  to  Yankee  sentiment  by 
selecting  as  a  leader  the  old  Abolition  fossil,  Greeley. 
But  to  come  home  to  our  own  state,  I  will  simply  re- 
iterate my  belief  that  our  own  leaders  were  responsible 
in  great  measure  for  the  Mongrel  excesses,  which  would 
never  have  occurred  had  a  few  prominent  men  declared 
themselves  ready  to  see  fair  play  for  the  persecuted  Ku 
Klux. 

My  young  friend  and  fellow  prisoner  Isaac  Padgett, 
and  others,  desiring  to  have  my  photograph  as  a  me- 
mento of  the  long  confinement  we  have  undergone  to- 
gether, obtained  permission  for  us  to  have  one  taken. 
A  couple  of  deputy  marshals  were  our  escort,  and  one 
seemed  disposed  to  be  friendly.  Said  he  had  a  brother, 
in  Madison  county  who  was  Chief  of  the  Klan  for  that 
county.  "Where  is  he  now?"  I  asked.  "Oh!  you  know 
better  than  I;  I'd  like  to  know  myself."  "Would  you 
arrest  him,  and  punish  him  for  crimes  he  never  com- 
mitted?" I  inquired  with  a  meaning  look.  "Not  much!" 
said  the  Deputy  Marshall,  and  had  nothing  more  to  say. 
In  the  gallery,  (Shelburn's)  I  met  Deaver,  the  Ashe- 
ville  Infernal  Revenue  sneak,  who  arrested  Addie,  and 
has  killed  one  or  two  men  under  pretense  of  "resisting 


The  Shotwell  Papers  79 

an  officer."  He  spoke  to  me  and  I  nodded  in  recog- 
nition, but  adding  in  a  "stage  whisper"  to  Mclntire, 
"Tm  become  humble  enough  to  speak  to  a  dog."  Shel- 
burn  seemed  a  clever  man,  and  took  occasion  to  say  in  a 
low  tone,  "We  all  sympathise  with  you,  and  hope  you 
will  not  have  to  suffer  much  longer."  I  felt  much  grat- 
ified by  this  assurance  from  an  utter  stranger,  and  was 
able  to  fix  up  a  comparatively  cheerful  countenance 
to  be  counterfeited  for  the  benefit  of  my  friends,  should 
I  never  return  from  prison.  Padgett  was  delighted 
with  the  picture,  and  declares  that  one  hundred  dollars 
would  not  buy  it  from  him,  unless  he  could  get  another. 
I  should  be  satisfied  with  100th  part  of  that  sum. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  we  were  called  down  into 
the  prison  yard,  by  jailor  Maguire,  and  found  Sheriff 
Lee,  with  Marshall  Carrow,  come  to  inform  us  of  our 
departure  at  five  o'clock  the  next  morning  for  Albany 
Penitentiary.  Carrow  nodded  to  me  complacently,  but 
I  gave  him  an  answering  stare  of  non-recognition,  not 
being  able  so  soon  to  forget  that  this  fellow  with  his  own 
hands  tied  my  arms  behind  my  back  in  the  Senate  Cham- 
ber, before  the  assembled  multitude,  not  because  of  any 
unruliness  on  my  part,  but  solely  to  gratify  his  own 
spitefulness  and  that  of  my  enemies! 

Thank  God!  Our  stay  in  this  miserable  hole,  subject 
to  such  treatment,  was  about  to  terminate.  Albany 
Penitentiary  surely  could  not  be  any  filthier,  or  more 
confining  than  Wake  Jail,  and  the  Northern  keepers 
could  have  no  personal  spite  at  us.  Gloomy  indeed 
must  be  the  situation  that  makes  a  change  to  a  distant 
Penitentiary  a  subject  for  rejoicing! 

U.  S.  Marshall  Carrow  has  some  reputation  among 
his  neighbors  for  cleverness ;  but  his  whole  treatment  of 
me,  of  our  party,  was  such  as  rendered  my  life  unceas- 
ingly miserable  while  under  his  control,  and  for  nearly 
a  year  after  we  went  to  Albany.  He  had  been  dining 
when  he  came  into  the  prison  yard,  or  at  least  drinking 
and,  in  detailing  to  the  men  what  they  should  have  to 
do  at  Albany  he  laid  special  stress  on  the  instructions 
to  take  nothing  with  us  except  the  coarsest  articles  of 
outer  clothing,  as  we  should  be  stripped  of  everything, 


80  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  given  prison  garments,  "out  and  out,"  while,  of 
course,  "your  citizen's  clothes  will  be  all  rotted  to  pieces 
before  you  get  out."  The  latter  fact  was  true,  but  it 
was  not  true  that  our  needs  as  to  underclothing,  stock- 
ings, etc.  would  be  supplied;  so  that  throughout  all  the 
long  winter  in  that  Arctic  climate  we  were  without  un- 
derclothing, etc.,  as  we  could  not  write  for  them  until 
thirty  days  after  our  arrival,  and  no  immediate  response 
could  be  had. 

This  last  conversation  with  Carrow  is  memorable  on 
other  accounts;  so  memorable  that  I  made  immediate 
notes  of  it.  His  tongue  was  "limberer"  than  usual,  and 
he  talked  quite  freely  with  the  prisoners  in  hearing  of  us 
all,  though  I  sat  on  the  stone  steps  apart  from  the  group 
to  whom  he  was  declaiming.  In  answer  to  one  or  two, 
who  had  condescended  to  ask  him  to  use  his  influence 
in  their  favor  if  opportunity  came  he  declared,  "Well, 
now  that  depends !  I'm  not  a  hard  man,  but  let  me  tell 
you,  none  of  you're  going  to  git  out  so  long  as  you  keep 
up  this  howl  about  the  Federal  Courts,  and  packed 
juries,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  It's  all  false  any  way! 
We  Union  Republicans  has  been  abused  till  we're  tired 
of  it,  and  a  goin'  to  strike  back.  I'm  a  close  friend  of 
Judge  Bond,  and  me  an'  him's  together  pretty  much 
all  the  time  he's  here,  and  I  can  tell  you  these  lies  of  old 
Jo  Turner's  about  "Star  Chamber  Courts"  an'  sich  like 
has  got  to  be  stopped,  else  you'll  see  a  good  many  more 
agoing  the  way  you're  agoing!  Mark  that!  And  I 
can  tell  you  all  that  insinuation  in  the  speeches  that 
your  lawyers  made  about  the  Court  didn't  help  your  case 
a  bit.  Your  lying  newspapers  and  big  bug  lawyers  can't 
bluff  old  Bond.  I  know  him,  and  how  he  feels;  and  he 
wouldn't  have  been  half  so  heavy  on  you,  but  for  Jo 
Turner's  lying  and  Fowle's  and  Bragg's  insinuating 
about  packed  juries/' 

The  latter  part  of  this  tirade  was  so  manifestly  aimed 
at  me  that  I  turned  to  those  who  sat  near  me,  and  re- 
marked aloud — "Fine  specimen  of  a  Just  Judge  who 
allows  himself  to  be  influenced  by  political  editorials  and 


The  Shotwell  Papers  81 

wreaks  his  revenge  upon  helpless  prisoners  for  the 
speeches  of  counsel." 

Now  what  a  showing  is  this! 

S.  T.  Carrow,  U.  S.  Marshal  for  North  Carolina,  an 
intimate  associate  of  Judge  Bond,  presiding  over  the 
trials  of  scores  and  hundreds  of  respectable  citizens, 
says  that  he  knows  (and  doubtless  he  does  know)  that 
the  Judge  was  influenced  in  his  decisions  by  personal 
resentment  at  remarks  of  outsiders  and  newspapers! 
That  is,  he  felt  aggrieved  at  the  plain  speaking  of  an 
editor,  and  to  revenge  himself,  he  made  use  of  the  full 
extent  of  his  judicial  power  to  punish  certain  unoffend- 
ing persons  unluckily  within  his  power!  Think  of  a 
Judge  of  the  Circuit  Court  of  the  United  States  wreak- 
ing upon  a  few  helpless  prisoners,  the  petty  spite  he 
felt  towards  a  political  party,  a  newspaper  or  lawyer! 
Is  it  surprising  that  our  people  have  lost  confidence  in 
the  judiciary,  and  respect  for  the  officers  of  the  law?  Is 
it  strange  that  sometimes  men  are  stung  to  take  into 
their  own  hands  the  punishment  of  crimes  that  should 
be  punished  by  legal  tribunals,  if  there  were  any  worthy 
the  name? 

Though  foreseen  for  many  weary  weeks  the  announce- 
ment that  we  shall  start  for  the  Penitentiary  tomorrow 
morning  causes  a  shudder,  and  cuts  like  the  edge  of  glass ! 
Start  for  the  Penitentiary !  It  seems  incredible !  the  heart 
must  doubt  it  or  break.  Great  Heavens !  can  it  be  true 
that  I,  Randolph  Shotwell,  am  a  convict  about  to  start 
for  a  Northern  Penitentiary!  At  this  moment  I  can 
fancy  the  torture  of  mind  that  must  assail  the  doomed 
to  death  on  the  morning  of  his  execution.  How  his 
form  must  quiver  when  first  he  awakes  to  consciousness ! 
However  he  may  have  steeled  himself  to  contemplate 
the  approach  of  Death,  at  this  hour,  with  physical  sys- 
tem all  relaxed,  the  iron  will  temporarily  unhinged,  and 
the  mind  preternaturally  clear,  he  will  be  overwhelmed 
by  the  rush  of  memories,  and  magnified  love  of  life  that 
must  be  far  more  painful  than  the  actual  march  to  the 
scaffold,  under  the  eyes  of  the  multitude.  Of  course, 
my  own  case  is  vastly  different ;  yet  when  I  reflect  upon 
the  brief  period  to  pass  before  our  departure  for  a  liv- 


82  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ing  grave  I  can  well  comprehend  the  torture  in  the  other 
case.  To  leave  all  with  whom  I  am  acquainted  all  old 
associations,  and  prospects,  to  leave  home  and  those 
therein;  books,  papers,  society  and  all  comforts;  to  give 
up  freedom  of  limb,  action,  and  speech;  to  enter  upon 
a  life  of  isolation,  drudgery  under  hard  taskmasters  to 
be  shut  off  from  all  intercourse  with  one's  fellowmen: 
to  drag  the  lengthening  chain  of  days  through  six  years, 
forgotten  of  all,  blighted  for  life,  robbed  of  the  fairest 
years  of  youth — surely  there  is  enough  in  the  prospect 
to  terrify  the  stoutest  soul.  Well  'tis  some  consolation 
to  know  I  can  escape  it  all  if  I  would,  but  will  not  under 
the  conditions  imposed.  I  have  advised  my  companions 
to  make  terms  for  themselves  if  they  can;  for  I  know 
they  know  nothing  to  implicate  any  one,  and  if  the 
Mongrels  will  free  them  in  hopes  of  getting  some  clue 
to  others  through  their  confessions,  I'll  be  glad  to  cheat 
them.  In  old  man  Collins's  case  especially,  I  have  urged 
Maguire  and  Tim  Lee  to  exert  themselves  to  procure 
pardon.  He  will  surely  die  if  carried  off  tomorrow. 
Poor,  desolate,  ignorant  old  man !  he  sits  and  cries  near- 
ly all  the  day  long! 

In  the  Sentinel  of  this  morning  there  is  an  account  of 
the  villainy  of  Jeff  Downey,  the  principal  tool  of  the 
government  at  our  trial.  It  seems  on  his  arrival  here 
he  engaged  boarding  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Rose,  a  re- 
spectable widow  lady  near  the  Yarborough  House,  for 
himself  and  wife.  The  pretended  wife  came  in  the  dusk 
of  the  evening  and  passed  to  her  room  with  her  veil 
down.  After  two  days  the  chambermaid  happening  to 
enter  the  room  suddenly  discovered  that  the  woman  was 
a  mulatto  wench — not  Downey's  wife  at  all!  Of  course 
both  were  expelled  instantly.  But  mark  the  villainy 
of  a  government  that  uses  the  testimony  of  foul  crea- 
tures like  Downey  and  his  paramour,  to  convict  respect- 
able and  honorable  men!  Bah!  what  a  free  government 
it  is!  Downey  was  the  right  man  for  the  dirty  work 
on  which  he  was  employed.  The  first  time  I  heard  his 
name  pronounced,  he  was  being  denounced  for  having 
slipped  off  to  South  Carolina,  and  by  means  of  some 
picked  up  signs,  procured  admittance  to  the  Order, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  83 

thereby  gaining  the  names  of  members  in  Rutherford 
for  the  determined  purpose  of  betraying  them. 

This  last  evening  in  Raleigh  jail  was  one  never  to  be 
forgotten.  Picture,  if  you  can,  the  small  dirty  room, 
half  its  floor  covered  with  drippings  from  the  filthy  tub, 
and  the  sprinklings  of  carbolic  acid,  whose  stench  was 
sickening,  no  light,  no  air,  save  that  which  came  through 
two  small  windows,  lessened  by  the  cross-bars,  no  fire, 
or  bedding,  except  a  couple  of  blankets  per  man,  no 
seats,  no  food,  no  books,  nothing  to  occupy  either  mind 
or  body.  For  me  there  was  not  even  the  diversion  of 
conversing  for  my  companions  were  comparatively 
strangers  to  me,  and  their  lives  were  so  different  that 
we  had  nothing  whatever  in  common  save  suffering. 
The  high  spirits  in  which  brother  Addison  had  gone 
home  a  previous  afternoon,  and  the  few  hurried  words 
he  had  whispered  as  the  result  of  his  inquiries  among 
our  friends  outside,  also  tended  to  make  me  restless  and 
wretched  in  this  sunset  hour.  "All  the  Western  men 
have  gone  home,  or  will  go  up  on  the  train  tomorrow," 
he  had  mentioned,  and  was  gratified  to  think  of  having 
company  homeward.  But  I  read  between  the  lines — 
'Yes,  gone  home,  all  of  them,  without  a  word  to  me  who 
on  the  morrow  will  go  far  to  the  cold  North  perhaps 
never  to  return!' 

After  sunset,  after  all  but  a  faint  tinge  of  crimson 
shown  upon  the  western  wall  of  the  jail,  a  few  rays 
penetrating  even  within  the  bars  of  the  narrow  window 
on  that  side,  I  arose  from  my  blankets,  and  stood  look- 
ing out  into  the  falling  twilight,  my  companions  were 
all  abed,  many  of  them  asleep.  There  was  a  strong 
chill  wind,  and  the  night  promised  to  be  unusually  cool 
for  October  in  this  latitude.  There  were  no  street 
lamps,  and  few  lights  in  the  windows;  for  the  view 
from  that  side  overlooks  a  poor  locality,  mainly  shops 
and  negro  cabins.  The  city  seemed  unusually  quiet,  no 
footsteps,  or  shouts,  were  audible;  and  an  air  of  pro- 
found desolateness  made  itself  felt;  just  as  when  I  have 
stood  on  some  lonely  hill  side,  in  Virginia,  during  the 
war,  seeing  not  one  human  being  for  miles,  on  miles,  and 
hearing  only  the  melancholy  soughing  of  the  breeze 


84  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

through  the  myriad  feathery  leaves  of  the  tall  pines! 
A  saddening  similarity  extended  also  to  my  life;  for 
while  every  present  surrounding  was  full  of  sombre 
desolation  and  solitude,  how  unbroken  was  the  vista  of 
lonely  future  years  rolling  on  and  on  before  me,  like 
the  drear  expanse  of  war-ruined  country  I  have  so  often 
surveyed!  How  I  envied  my  companions — for  whom 
Memory  held  no  grevious  Realms  of  Self -Reproach — 
who  were  not  tormented  by  hosts  of  "Might-Have- 
Beens"  and  "Why-Did-Yous"  and  "What  will  Be- 
come of  YousV3  Or  to  whom  there  was  no  mortifica- 
tion over  neglect;  because  they  had  nothing  to  expect! 
To  me  it  was  a  grievous  thing  that  I  who  had  once  had 
quite  a  number  of  friends  in  Raleigh,  and  had  passed 
some  very  merry  hours,  riding,  walking,  and  visiting 
with  them,  both  youths  and  maidens,  had  now  been 
weeks  on  weeks  shut  up  in  the  filthy  jail,  amid  negroes 
and  felons,  and  strangers,  without  a  call  from  any  of 
them,  or  a  sign  of  sympathy  or  solace  from  any.  I  had 
dropped  out  of  their  recollection,  had  become  as  Dowell 
wrote,  "too  poor  for  anyone  to  do  him  reverence!"  If 
I  went  off,  if  I  should  be  crushed  under  the  privations 
and  oppressions  of  the  "Convict"  life  to  come,  who 
would  care  at  all! 

Moreover  I  knew  that  about  this  hour,  my  aged  and 
heart-broken  father,  in  his  lonely  study,  afar  on  the 
slope  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  would  receive  the  evening  tri- 
weekly mail,  with  accounts  of  my  conviction,  sentence, 
and  transfer  to  the  Penitentiary!  Proud  old  man  that 
he  was,  notwithstanding  his  modest  backwardness  of 
self-seeking,  and  self-assertion,  how  would  he,  how 
could  he,  endure  this  blow?  True,  he  knew  from  the 
hour  I  fell  into  the  hands  of  my  enemies  they  would  seek 
to  crush  me;  but  now  that  they  seemed  to  have  suc- 
ceeded, would  he  not  sink  also? 

Ah!  it  is  well  this  calamity  escaped  me!  The  fires 
of  resentment  in  my  soul  needed  but  that  breath  to  make 
me  devote  my  life  to — Revenge!  Eternal,  unceasing, 
uncalculating,  pitiless  Vengeance! 

It  was  not  easy,  even  as  things  went,  to  banish  such 
thoughts  utterly  from  my  soul.       Many  times   wild 


The  Shotwell  Papers  85 

thoughts  kept  me  awake  through  the  long  silent  hours  of 
the  night  as  I  reflected  how  much  I  had  suffered  and  was 
yet  suffering,  and  must  still  suffer,  while  sleek,  selfish 
schemers,  really  deserving  of  some  such  punishment 
were  free,  prosperous,  respected,  yea,  quite  ready  to 
sneer  at  "Shotwell's  misconduct,"  "ShotwelFs  just  de- 
serts," and  the  like!  Darker  yet  were  the  thoughts 
aroused  by  the  memories  of  the  cowardly  malice  that 
penned  me  in  cages  with  murderers  and  felons,  dragged 
me  in  handcuffs  past  the  door  of  my  own  home,  where 
my  venerable  father  was  almost  crazed  with  mingled 
grief  and  indignation,  harassed  me  in  all  possible  ways, 
packed  a  jury  to  convict  me,  bribed  a  dozen  cringing 
scoundrels  to  slander  me,  so  that  even  my  own  friends 
were  deceived  and  turned  against  me  by  their  specious 
false-swearing;  and  finally — the  Penitentiary!  Six  of 
the  fairest  years  of  my  life  to  be  shorn  away,  to  be 
buried  in  a  living  grave,  enveloped  in  the  tainting  as- 
sociations of  a  convicted  felon! 

Is  it  wonderful  if  the  heart  grew  hard,  the  feelings 
wrought  up,  the  moral  senses  o'er  burdened  by  the  lava- 
tide  of  resentment  now  and  again? 

Thank  God,  my  enemies  were  too  numerous  to  admit 
of  revenge  upon  all,  and  this  feeling  of  inability  of 
redress  perhaps  saved  me  from  mental  and  moral  ruin. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH 

The  Journey — Another  Petty  Deed 

Morning  found  us,  after  a  few  hours  of  fevered,  and 
dreams-broken  slumber,  as  poorly  conditioned  for  a 
long  journey,  even  with  the  pleasant  destination  of  ours, 
as  can  be  imagined.  The  mist,  which  was  very  heavy, 
had  been  drifting  through  the  unsashed  windows  making 
our  hair,  faces,  and  blankets  damp  and  sticky ;  there  was 
not  a  drop  of  water  for  morning  ablutions,  nor  lights, 
nor  fire,  nor  any  cheering  influence  whatever.  The  close, 
fetid  atmosphere,  the  sloppy,  lime  covered  floor,  the 
bare,  broken  walls,  covered  with  vulgar  charcoal  sketch- 
es, and  tobacco  stains ;  the  gratings  of  the  windows,  and 
heavy,  bolted  door,  together,  formed  a  wretched  "back- 
ground," as  it  were,  for  the  group  of  sleepy-looking, 
shivering,  coarsely  clad,  creatures,  who  squatted  on  the 
rolls  of  their  blankets,  around  the  walls,  silently  await- 
ing the  call  to  start.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  the  dark- 
ness changed  to  dawn,  of  a  gloomy,  cloudy  day,  the 
sounds  of  awakening  life  in  the  city  began  to  be  heard, 
and  the  time  was  come !  Tramping  up  the  steps  outside, 
came  Maguire,  jingling  his  huge  bunch  of  keys  right 
merrily.  With  him,  was  "Wash,"  with  "breakfast" — the 
usual  table-spoonful  of  "cow-peas,"  a  "chunk"  of  half- 
baked  (the  crust  burned,  but  the  interior  still  sticky 
and  unpalatable)  sour  corn-bread,  and  a  piece  of  rusty 
bacon,  the  size  of  my  finger.  Ordinarily  I  did  not  more 
than  taste  the  stuff,  but  this  morning  the  mere  sight 
was  revolting;  though  I  knew  we  should  need  all  our 
physical  strength  for  the  ordeal  before  us. 

And  now  a  full  company  of  Yankee  soldiers  with 
fixed  bayonets  took  position  at  the  outer  gate.  The 
officer,  in  command,  Lieut.  J.  S.  McEwan,1  4th  Artil- 
lery, entered  together  with  several  scalawag  "Deputy- 
Marshals,"  and  Jailor  Maguire,  who  carried  a  large 

1  John  Steven  McEwan  of  New  York,  who  had  served  in  the  Seventh  N.  Y, 
Artillery  as  lieutenant,  captain  and  brevet  major  during  the  war,  and  after  dis- 
charge had  been   commissioned  lieutenant  and   assigned  to  the  Fourth   Artillery. 

86 


The  Shotwell  Papers  87 

bunch  of  rusty  iron  handcuffs!  Tim  Lee,  at  the  same 
time  bustled  in  with  a  bottle  or  two  of  Raleigh  whis- 
key— "dead  shot  at  40  rods."  My  companions,  being 
nervous  and  chilly,  drank  too  much  of  the  vile  stuff, 
and  soon  began  to  joke  and  jabber  in  a  senseless  man- 
ner; a  circumstance  that  added  to  my  mortification,  as 
I  knew  there  would  be  many  watchful  eyes  on  the  party. 

Rumor  had  intimated  that  we  should  be  handcuffed 
in  couples,  just  as  we  had  seen  a  white  man  and  a  negro 
sent  away  some  time  previous;  but  I  could  not  believe 
it  until  I  saw  Maguire's  grin.  Repressing  pride,  grief, 
and  indignation,  I  accosted  Lieut.  McEwan  pleasantly 
remarking  that  I  was  gratified  at  the  prospect  of  having 
a  guard  of  soldiers  instead  of  a  gang  of  political  bum- 
mers; and  then  I  stooped  to  ask  a  favor  of  the  epaul- 
etted  young  Yankee,  viz:  "Would  he  not  dispense 
with  the  indignity  of  chaining  and  shackling  us,  upon 
condition  of  our  giving  our  solumn  pledge  not  to  at- 
tempt to  escape,  nor  give  any  trouble  whatever  en  route 
to  Albany?  If  he  would  grant  this  never-to-be-for- 
gotten favor  I  would  give  a  special  parole  d'honneur 
neither  to  escape,  nor  allow  any  of  my  companions  to 
do  so,"  etc. 

The  officer  seemed  embarrassed,  and  courteously  as- 
sured me  he  would  escort  us  to  the  Penitentiary  without 
any  guard,  under  our  pledges,  "or,  at  least  yours,  I 
should  not  hesitate  to  accept.  But  my  orders  are  im- 
perative, and  especially  as  to  yourself.  I  have  no  dis- 
cretion. My  orders  require  me  to  put  you  in  irons  and, 
you  know,  a  soldier  must  obey  orders."  "Very  well," 
said  I,  "Since  you  are  so  instructed  there  is  nothing 
for  us  but  to  submit  to  this  needless  indignity.  But 
you  must  admit,  Sir,  it  is  altogether  unnecessary  on  any 
ground  of  our  safe-keeping  and  therefore  is  a  piece  of 
petty,  purposeless,  persecution!"  The  officer  shrugged 
his  shoulders  with  a  significant  smile:  whereupon  I  ad- 
ded, "No,  not  precisely  'purposeless';  the  purpose  is  to 
humiliate  us  to  the  very  lowest  degree,  by  marching 
us  through  the  streets  of  Raleigh,  chained  together  like 
slaves!" 


88  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

The  lieutenant  hesitated  a  moment;  then  said  in  a 
whisper,  "My  orders  only  require  me  to  'take'  you  in 
handcuffs;  so,  keep  your  men  quiet,  and  as  soon  as  we 
reach  the  boundary  line  at  the  other  side  of  Weldon, 
I'll  relieve  you  of  your  shackles  on  my  own  responsibil- 
ity." 

It  was  a  small  favor,  but  "small  favors''  should  be 
"thankfully  received." 

Ordered  down  into  the  prison  enclosure,  we  found 
other  "deputy  marshals,"  (sent  I  imagine,  by  "Fat" 
Carrow  to  see  that  no  gentleness  was  showed  to  us) 
who  made  themselves  busy  in  fastening  the  shackles  on 
our  wrists.  There  is  something  repulsive  in  even  the 
appearance  of  a  lot  of  handcuffs,  due  to  the  association 
of  ideas;  and  these  were  the  oldest,  roughest,  greasiest 
I  ever  beheld ;  they  having  been  used  for  coupling  slaves 
for  the  mart  in  ante-bellum  times,  it  may  be,  or  more 
recently  the  larcenous  freedman.  The  Scalawags,  per- 
fectly familiar  with  them,  seemed  to  enjoy  handling 
them.  "Here's  your  cast-iron,  Ku  Klux  bracelets!" 
chuckled  one  of  the  low  fellows  as  he  snapped  the  bolt 
around  Adolphus  DePriest's  wrist,  saying  also,  that  it 
was  "a  perfect  fit,"  and  "must  have  been  made  for  him!" 

It  is  a  small  matter,  but  torture  can  be  made  of  gnat- 
bites.  All  the  little  gnats,  and  other  vermin,  were 
abroad  in  the  shape  of  scalawag  officers  during  this  same 
year  of  our  Lord,  eighteen  hundred  and  seventy-one, 
and  together  they  made  much  misery  for  multitudes  of 
decent  people.  The  following  is  a  specimen  of  their 
spitefulness.  All  of  my  companions  were  virtually 
strangers  to  me,  as  I  had  never  known  them  prior  to 
my  arrest,  and  had  only  nominal  intimacy  with  them 
since.  But,  on  seeing  we  were  to  be  handcuffed  in 
pairs,  I  asked  to  be  paired  with  old  Mr.  Collins,  the 
South  Carolina  miller.  He  was  nearer  my  size  than 
the  others,  and  he,  being  in  his  64th  year,  was  more 
quiet  and  dignified  than  most  of  the  others.  Besides 
he  looked  to  me  in  the  conduct  of  his  case,  the  writing 
of  his  letters,  etc. 

Surely  it  was  a  slight  thing  to  ask  to  be  coupled  with 
him!     But  the  Mongrels,  divining  my  motive,  not  only 


The  Shotwell  Papers  89 

refused  to  allow  it,  but  paired  me  with  Bill  Teal,  a  tall 
raw-boned,  uncouth,  back- woodsmen,  the  hardest  look- 
ing man  in  the  party — and  so  fuddled  by  Tim  Lee's 
whiskey,  that  he  giggled  and  pranced  like  a  baboon, 
who  was  specially  objectionable  to  me,  because  he,  after 
being  one  of  the  most  violent  and  irrestrainable  of  the 
Klansmen,  (he  it  was,  as  I  have  been  assured  by  several 
persons  who  heard  him  boast  of  it,  who  tried  to  shoot 
James  Justice  on  the  night  of  the  Rutherf ordton  Rum- 
pus his  arm  having  been  knocked  aside  just  as  he  would 
have  fired  his  pistol)  was  one  of  the  first  who  yielded  to 
commingled  fear  and  greed,  and  became  a  "swift  wit- 
ness" against  his  neighbors. 

After  using  him  until  he  could  neither  remember,  nor 
invent,  anything  more,  the  Mongrels  re-arrested  him, 
tried,  and  convicted  him  on  another  charge,  sentencing 
him  to  three  years  in  the  same  Penitentiary  with  his 
victims.  He  knew  nothing  of  me,  and  therefore,  my 
dislike  to  him  was  based  solely  on  his  abstract  character ; 
(I  afterwards  nursed  him  during  his  last  hours  of  life)  ; 
but  he  was  so  rough  and  ungainly  I  could  not  but  shrink 
from  being  manacled  with  him  for  a  travelling  corn- 
companion  during  the  long  journey  northward.  And 
knowing  this,  the  Mongrels  forced  it  upon  me. 

"It  is  strange  to  observe/'  says  Sir  James  Macintosh, 
in  one  of  his  superb  Constitutional  Essays,  "how  uni- 
formly, when  Oppression  rules  the  hour,  the  tyrant,  be 
he  who  he  may,  on  the  throne,  or  the  lowest  turnkey  of 
a  prison,  contrives,  and  seems  to  study  to  contrive,  how 
to  add  insult  to  injury;  how  to  make  cruelty  more  cruel; 
and  inflict  new  torments  and  annoyances  on  those  who 
must  necessarily  be  already  wretched/3 

How  many  incidents  of  our  prison  experience  verify 
this  remark!  The  deserter-convict,  at  Fort  Delaware 
during  the  war,  could  often  be  seen  cruelly  beating  with 
his  club  the  miserable  "Rebels,"  who  were  forced  to 
draw  the  heavy  cart-loads  of  unhewn  granite;  and  our 
negro  cook,  "Wash,"  himself  a  (supposed)  prisoner 
serving  out  his  sentence,  but  treated  as  an  equal  and 
associate  by  the  Mongrels,  delights  to  come  into  the 
jail  at  meal  time,  wearing  a  huge  revolver  buckled 


90  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

around  his  waist,  and  carrying  himself  in  an  impudent, 
bullying  swagger  towards  the  Klan  prisoners,  occasion- 
ally insulting  those  whom  he  fancied  would  submit  to  it. 

PARADED  THROUGH  RALEIGH 

The  prison  gates  swing  open,  and  we  march  out  in 
couples,  between  double  rows  of  blue-coated  soldiers, 
who  close  around  us  with  an  hollow  square  of  bayonets. 
Sheriff  Tim  Lee's  wife,  nee  Miss  Venitia  Harris,  daugh- 
ter of  "Cebe,"  and  niece  of  George  W.  Logan,  was  at 
one  of  the  windows  of  the  Sheriff's  residence,  at  the 
front  of  the  jail,  and  seeing  me  thus  hand-cuffed,  sur- 
rounded by  Yankees,  and  negroes,  marching  away  to 
a  distant  penitentiary,  her  southern  womanly  feelings 
must  have  temporarily  overmastered  her  Radical  train- 
ing and  associations,  as  she  bowed,  and  made  a  little 
gesture  of  sympathy,  whereat  I  raised  my  hat  in  ac- 
knowledgment; raising  also  Teal's  hand,  (which  was 
attached  to  my  own),  much  to  his  amazement. 

And  this  woman,  daughter  of  one  of  my  enemies, 
niece  of  the  "Donkey"  Judge  of  Rutherford,  and  leader 
of  the  Red  String  Leagues;  also,  wife  of  a  Radical 
Sheriff,  an  Ex- Yankee  soldier,  born  in  Ireland,  and 
reared  in  Boston,  also,  sister  of  J.  C.  Logan  Harris, 
editor  of  the  Radical  organ,  and  solicitor  of  the  negro 
district;  this  lady,  I  say,  though  I  had  never  spoken  to 
her  more  than  once  or  twice,  half  a  dozen  years  before, 
was  the  solitary  person  to  say  "Farewell."  Hers  was  the 
sole  parting  word,  nod,  look,  or  gesture,  that  was  given 
me  by  man  or  woman  of  this  great  city,  wherein  were 
hundreds  who  had  known  me  personally  and  many  more 
who  knew  that  I  was  being  punished  for  my  zealous  ad- 
vocacy of  Southern  rights  and  conservative  principles 
and  that  I  was  going  to  a  far  northern  prison  because  I 
refused  to  lend  myself  to  the  designs  of  the  Radicals  who 
wished  to  manufacture  capital  to  defeat  our  party.  Was 
it  strange  that  my  heart  lay  cold  and  sick  in  my  breast 
as  I  realized  this  utter  abandoment?  Noth withstand- 
ing that  I  knew  how  great  a  dread  existed  of  being  con- 
taminated, if  not  harassed,  by  suspicions  of  being  too 
intimate  with  the  accused  Ku  Klux,  yet  it  was  hard  to 
believe  that  not  one  soul  would  dare  to  call  upon  me 


The  Shotwell  Papers  91 

to  receive  any  last  message  I  might  wish  to  leave,  or 
to  accompany  me  to  the  cars,  as  I  would  have  done  any 
friend  similarly  situated  and  persecuted.  But  I  walked 
alone.  Even  "Bold  Josiah  Turner"  stood  at  his  office 
door,  but  came  no  nearer  to  say,  "Be  of  good  cheer." 
A  few  days  before  he  sent  a  message  to  me  by  Senator 
Whitesides,  "Tell  Shotwell  I  would  call  to  see  him  but 
the  Radicals  would  make  fuss  of  it,  and  say  I  was  atten- 
tive to  brother  Ku  Klux."  Thus  it  was  with  many  of 
my  so-called  friends ;  a  dread  of  what  the  Radicals  might 
say  or  charge  them  with!  This  in  a  free  country  by 
Freemen!  No  wonder  the  Mongrels  were  emboldened 
to  any  stretch  of  power! 

It  may  be  I  expected  more  than  was  reasonable  of 
my  friends  in  this  matter,  but  certainly  I  would  have 
stood  by  my  friends  in  trouble. 

Outside  of  the  jail-yard  an  immense  mob  of  negroes 
of  all  colors,  sexes,  and  ages  were  congregated  to  see 
"Dem  Kluooes  g'wine  ter  Pentionary"  The  Blue- 
Coats  kept  open  an  avenue  for  us  to  march  through; 
the  multitude  crowded  thick  as  there  was  room  on  both 
sides  of  the  line  and  many  of  them,  particularly  women, 
were  very  noisy  and  abusive.  Poor  creatures !  they  were 
taught  by  their  party  associations  to  look  upon  all  Dem- 
ocrats, and  especially  "dem  Kluxes,"  as  their  enemies, 
whereas  there  was  not  a  man  among  all  their  so-called 
"friends,"  who  wished  the  race  more  solid  benefit,  and 
true  freedom  than  myself.  And  many  a  night,  months 
after  their  wild  yells  of  abuse  of  us,  I  went  up  into  a 
cold  room  to  teach  the  lowest  of  their  fellows ;  and  many 
a  night  sat  up  till  nearly  worn  out,  to  watch  with,  and 
give  medicine  to,  poor  degraded  members  of  their  race ; 
though  I  might  easily  have  shirked  the  miserable  duty, 
and  rested  at  ease  while  the  shadow  of  death  fell  upon 
them!  Yet,  after  all,  'tis  not  these  ignorant,  unreason- 
ing creatures  we  should  so  much  blame  as  the  abomi- 
able  Mongrels  who  for  base  partizan  purposes  instill 
the  worst  of  feelings,  beliefs,  and  prejudices  into  their 
minds. 

As  we  entered  the  street  Lieut.  McEwan  came  to  me 
and  began  to  pull  down  my  coat  sleeve  to  cover  the 


92  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

handcuffs.  "It  is  not  necessary  to  hide  them,"  said  I, 
"I  am  not  ashamed  of  them,  not  half  as  much  as  those 
who  ordered  them  put  on  me."  Yet  my  feelings  were 
sorely  tried :  for  the  drunken  creature  with  whom  I  was 
shackled  became  so  excited  by  the  shouts  and  running  of 
the  mob  of  negroes,  and  others,  that  I  could  not  check 
him  in  his  half-prance,  half -trot,  dragging  me  by  the 
wrist,  as  if  we  were  ashamed,  hurrying  to  get  out  of 
sight  and  giggling  hysterically  despite  my  efforts  to 
repress  him.  The  bright  uniforms  of  the  soldiers,  of 
course,  attracted  a  large  crowd. 

However  as  there  was  no  help  for  it,  I  calmly  and 
quietly  awaited  the  order  to  march ;  and  proceeded  to  the 
train  in  the  same  manner. 

For  some  reason,  perhaps  to  bring  us  more  directly 
in  front  of  the  Yarborough  Hotel,  where  many  of  my 
acquaintance  were  stopping,  the  procession  was  made 
to  march  through  the  passage  of  the  Court  House  in- 
stead of  going  round  to  the  right  of  it,  as  any  one  else 
would  do. 

Out  in  the  middle  of  Fayetteville  Street,  and  slowly 
down  it — until  at  the  place  of  all  places — the  procession 
halts  for  a  full  ten  minutes  nearly  in  front  of  the  resi- 
dence of  Mrs.  Wm.  H.  Haywood,  wherein  I  happened 
to  know  were  a  number  of  gentle  folk  to  whom  I  had 
been  known  in  happier  circumstances.  Was  it  not  nat- 
ural that  I  thought  less  at  that  moment  of  being  in 
handcuffs  than  of  my  apparent  association  with ? 

The  soldiers  were  formed  in  hollow  square  around 
us;  the  mob  of  negroes  swarmed  on  the  side  walks; 
here  and  there  I  can  see  an  acquaintance  watching,  with 
casual  curiosity,  our  party — but  none  coming  to  speak 
to  me — to  say,  "Be  of  Good  Cheer,  my  friend;  we  shall 
be  true  to  you!" — No! — not  one;  and  so  we  take  leave 
of  Raleigh.  There  are  some  other  most  melancholy 
circumstances  connected  with  this  cruel  pause  in  the 
main  street  of  the  Capital,  but  they  belong  to  the  past — 
let  them  go  down  with  the  dead,  and  be  forgotten. 

The  mob  followed  closely,  but  were  kept  back  by  the 
"hollow  square"  of  soldiers  surrounding  us.  At  the 
depot,  Lieut.  McEwan  ordered  a  sergeant  to  take  a 


The  Shotwell  Papers  93 

platoon  and  drive  back  the  crowd  at  the  point  of  bayo- 
net a  movement  performed  with  much  alacrity  by  the 
"Regulars"  whose  dislike  of  the  darkey  is  noticeable  on 
all  occasions.  We  were  placed  in  the  cars  of  the  Ral- 
eigh &  Gaston  R.  R.  While  awaiting  the  locomotive 
Sheriff  Lee  came  in,  and  asked  me  if  I  had  any  money. 
"Very  little,"  I  replied,  "but  enough  for  my  purposes, 
I  suppose."  He  hurried  out  of  the  car,  and  I  saw  him 
no  more  till  we  were  getting  under  way,  when  he  ran 
in  to  hand  me  a  note.  It  contained  a  $10  bill.  Instant- 
ly I  called  to  him  from  the  window,  but  he  merely  an- 
swered, "It's  all  right;  from  a  lady!"  and  disappeared. 
I  felt  annoyed,  yet  cheered.  It  was  annoying  to  accept 
charity  from  the  enemy,  yet  cheering  to  be  assured 
there  was  some  one  whose  sympathy  was  strong  and 
generous,  even  though  to  me  unknown. 

Meanwhile,  several  citizens  of  the  town,  young  men, 
came  in,  and  introduced  themselves  to  me ;  but  I  did  not 
catch  their  names — as  I  now  regret. 

As  the  train  rolled  slowly  away  through  the  suburbs, 
I  looked  from  the  window,  seeing  localities  I  had  visited 
with  lady  friends,  buggy-riding  in  all  the  jollity  of 
youth,  and  high  spirits,  only  two  years  before,  (it  now 
seemed  as  if  it  had  been  many,  many  years  agone!)  and 
as  the  town  vanished  it  awakened  some  such  sentiment 
as  the  traveller  feels  on  sailing  away  from  a  port  where 
he  has  many  acquaintance  with  whom  he  had  enjoyed 
pleasant  socialities,  but  whom  now  he  expects  never- 
more to  see  again!  However  these  sentimental  reflec- 
tions must  be  crushed  out  of  sight,  yea,  and  out  of  heart, 
for  a  life  and  death  struggle  is  now  begun  wherein  the 
least  weakness,  or  surrender  to  sentimental  brooding, 
will  destroy  soul  and  body!  And  so,  I  get  out  a  roll 
of  New  York  papers,  purchased  especially  for  their 
soporific  qualities,  and  seek  to  forget  thought  by  think- 
ing— after  somebody  else. 

The  company  of  'Regulars'  did  not  come  with  us,  but, 
after  seeing  the  train  safely  started,  were  marched  back 
to  camp,  leaving  us  under  the  charge  of  Lieut.  McEwan, 
with  a  sergeant  and  four  soldiers  as  military  escort, 
together  with  a  squad  of  "special  deputy  marshals," 


94  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ostensibly  sent  along  to  assist  in  convoying  us  to  Albany, 
but  in  reality  appointed  by  Carrow  and  Bond  as  a  nice 
arrangement  whereby  they  might  make  a  summer  tour 
to  the  North  at  the  expense  of  the  Federal  government! 
There  was  hardly  any  attempt  to  conceal  this.  For 
example,  Young  Johnny  Bailey,  son  of  a  Republican 
lawyer  of  considerable  prominence,  was  "deputized" 
to  accompany  the  party  as  assistant  commissioner,  or 
some  such  excuse.  He  laughingly  remarked  to  me, 
after  offering  me  his  shawl  to  sit  upon  (i.e.  take  care 
of,  while  he  strolled  about),  that  he  didn't  see  that  he 
was  of  any  particular  use  to  the  Party,  but  he  had  never 
seen  Albany  and  it  was  a  pleasant  trip,  at  no  expense, 
(i.  e. — no  cost  to  himself,  and  who  cares  for  expenses 
when  the  "Best  government  the  world  ever  saw"  is  to  foot 
the  bills!)  On  a  similar  footing  with  young  Bailey  was 
Theo  Josephs,  a  Raleigh  liquor  saloonist;  and  also,  if 
I  mistake  not,  Phil  Thiem,  of  the  same  place.  They 
had  business  in  New  York,  and  expected  to  transact 
it,  while  the  soldiers  carried  us  up  the  Hudson  to  Al- 
bany. The  question  may  be  asked  why  any  one  beside 
the  military  should  accompany  us  ?  But  a  little  reflection 
will  show  the  absurdity  of  the  inquiry !  If  pot-house  pol- 
iticians were  not  to  be  allowed  to  make  a  purse  now  and 
then  from  the  great  and  good  and  glorious  government 
wherefore  should  any  of  them  join  the  Republican 
Party  and  yell  for  Grant  ? 

Lieut.  John  S.  McEwan,  of  the  4th  United  States 
Artillery,  was  a  young  officer,  not  long  hatched  from 
West  Point,  though  married  and  parentally  experi- 
enced. He  had  sought  command  of  our  escort  because 
he  wished  to  visit  his  people  at  Albany,  of  which  city 
he  is  a  native.  As  he,  when  in  Raleigh,  of  course,  associ- 
ated chiefly  with  Radicals  and  office-holders,  carpet- 
baggers etc.,  his  views  of  the  Ku  Klux  troubles  were 
one-sided,  inaccurate,  and  prejudiced;  but  being  a  man 
of  kind  hearted  disposition  and  pleasing  manners,  we 
got  on  together  quite  cordially. 

He  manifested  a  kindly  disposition  towards  us,  and 
after  we  had  proceeded  some  distance,  came  to  occupy 
the  seat  adjoining  mine  to  converse  with  me,  offering  me 


The  Shotwell  Papers  95 

his  newspapers,  etc.  He  assured  me  in  answer  to  my 
inquiries  as  to  our  probable  life  at  Albany,  that  Genl. 
Pilsbury  was  a  most  excellent  and  humane  gentleman, 
the  very  model  of  a  Prison-Keeper.  All  of  which  I 
accepted  cum  grano  salis,  or  with  a  whole  handful  of 
"salt,"  so  to  speak,  simply  remarking  that  unfortunate- 
ly the  "model-keeper"  viewed  from  the  interior  of  his 
model  cage  was  apt  to  bear  quite  a  transmogrified 
aspect!  And  this  I  was  to  ascertain  by  personal  view. 

A  DAY  OF  SYMPATHETIC  SUNSHINE 

Among  those  who  boarded  the  train  at  Raleigh  was 
Mr.  T.  B.  Kingsbury,  associate  Editor  of  the  Daily 
Sentinel  (at  the  time),  and  well  known  as  perhaps  the 
most  cultivated  of  our  literary  writers,  and  critics.  He 
had  recently  acted  as  correspondent  of  the  Baltimore 
Gazette,  and  had  done  a  very  great  good  to  the  cause 
of  historic  truth  by  exposing  the  malicious  motives  and 
wicked  conspiring  whereby  the  Grantizaries  were  sub- 
jugating our  people.  I  greatly  regret  not  being  able  to 
give  some  extracts  from  "Tuscarora's"  letters. 

I  had  no  personal  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Kingsbury, 
but  he  came  to  me  with  so  manifest  feelings  of  kindness 
I  derived  the  first  genuine  sense  of  encouragement  and 
sympathy  I  had  met  with — notwithstanding  that  it  came 
from  a  stranger.  How  quickly  one  recognizes  a  real 
friend!  Many  of  my  so-called  friends  have  been  dumb 
as  oysters  whereas  Mr.  K.  sought  me  out.  Mr.  Kings- 
bury, also,  informed  me  that  he  intended  writing  a  full 
statement  of  my  case  for  the  Baltimore  papers.  Un- 
fortunately he  knows  not  one  half  the  truth;  for  all 
the  avenues  of  information  have  been  unreliable  or 
utterly  silent,  through  intimidation. 

As  the  train  checked  at  Kittrell's  Springs  station — 
the  celebrated  watering  place,  a  number  of  well-dressed 
ladies  were  seen  on  the  platform;  and  they  presently 
ventured  to  the  windows.  Thinking  they  were  looking 
for  friends  I  turned  to  my  newspaper;  when  they 
rapped  on  the  pane  to  call  my  attention.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  drag  Teal  with  me  to  the  other  side  of  the  car, 
as  we  were  handcuffed  together ;  but  I  raised  the  window 


96  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  spoke  to  the  fair  ones  who  said  they  desired  to 
express  sympathy  for  us,  etc. 

I  was  much  embarrassed,  thus  talking  with  my  head 
out  of  the  window  and  the  other  passengers  also  cran- 
ing their  necks  to  see  who  were  these  brave  young  ladies 
who  could  thus  brave  public  remark  to  manifest  their 
womanly  kindness ;  though  I  sought  to  thank  them  with 
somewhat  of  the  sincere  gratitude  I  felt  for  their  sym- 
pathy. 

"Do  you  know  the  ladies  you  have  been  talking  to?" 
asked  Mr.  K.,  as  the  cars  rolled  on.  "The  Misses  L — 
are  among  the  wealthiest  and  first  ladies  of  H — ,"  he 
continued,  "they  and  the  others  are  visiting  the  Springs 
I  suppose."  Whatever  their  fortune  they  should  have 
a  better  one  if  I  might  be  the  arbiter;  for  the  few  kind 
words  spoken  by  them  to  one  an  utter  stranger  were 
destined  to  afford  me  many  a  strengthening  and  solac- 
ing thought  amid  the  long  dark  days  before  me. 

About  a  mile  farther  on,  Dr.  Kingsbury  took  leave 
of  me;  with  a  warm  "God  bless  you!" — and  when  the 
cars  rolled  away  from  the  station  I  saw  him  standing  in 
his  doorway  waving  a  farewell  salute  with  his  news- 
paper. "This  is  hard" — I  murmured  almost  involun- 
tarily, forgetful  of  the  presence  of  the  officer.  "Yes  it  is 
hard — I  am  sorry  for  you.  Yet,  let  me  tell  you,  it  was 
well  you  were  not  tried  by  army  court  martial.  We 
should  certainly  have  hanged  you." 

"Not  if  you  were  honorable  men." 

"Yes,  because  you  were  the  best  informed,  you  had 
held  positions  of  prominence  in  your  community,  and 
you  were  one  of  the  leaders." 

"No,  you  are  vastly  mistaken.  I  should  rejoice  to  be 
tried  before  a  court  of  intelligent  army  officers.  They 
at  least  would  have  no  petty,  private,  and  malignant 
motives  for  manufacturing  evidence  against  me." 

Upon  my  return  home  I  found  that  he  had  written  an 
article  concerning  me;  of  which  the  following  appears 
to  be  an  extract: 

A  correspondent  of  the  Weldon  News,  in  a  letter 
dated  Oxford,  October  7th,  thus  writes  of  Captain 
Shotwell,  who  was  recently  sentenced  by  the  Ku- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  97 

Klux  court  at  Raleigh  to  six  years'  imprisonment 
in  the  penitentiary  and  to  pay  a  fine  of  $5,000: 
"On  the  morning  I  left  Raleigh  I  saw  this  brave 
man  and  seven  others  marched  through  the  streets 
hand-cuffed  and  guarded  by  some  fifteen  Yankee 
soldiers,  armed  with  loaded  muskets  and  fixed 
bayonets.  On  the  cars  I  had  an  interview  with  Cap- 
tain Shotwell,  and  was  glad  to  find  him  in  such 
good  spirits.  He  bears  up  bravely  under  his  mis- 
fortunes. He  says:  'Tell  my  friends  I  go  to  my 
doom  with  cheerful  spirits.'  I  gave  him  some  recent 
papers,  and  my  address,  promising  to  send  him 
papers  regularly,  if  the  authorities  will  allow  it. 
He  is  to  write  me  as  soon  as  he  can,  giving  neces- 
sary directions.  At  Kittrell's  several  young  ladies 
expressed  to  him  their  sympathy.  To  this  he  re- 
plied, that  he  could  bear  all  his  misfortunes  bravely, 
if  the  ladies  of  North  Carolina  sympathised  with 
him.  When  my  destination  had  been  reached,  I 
bade  Capt.  (Shotwell)  farewell  and  left  the  car 
with  a  heavy  heart.  He  is  a  remarkably  fine  looking 
man,  some  six  feet  high,  very  erect,  with  a  bright, 
frank  open  handsome  face.  He  is,  I  suppose,  about 
thirty  years  of  age,  and  is  the  son  of  a  well  known 
Presbyterian  minister.  He  is  well  educated." 

At  another  station — I  regret  that  I  failed  to  catch 
the  name — a  gentleman  rushed  into  the  car  with  an  arm- 
ful of  tobacco,  which  he  distributed  to  the  prisoners, 
giving  three  plugs  to  each  one  of  the  eight,  except  to 
myself,  I  not  using  the  weed.  It  was  a  thoughtful,  gen- 
erous, gift,  and  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  here  give  him  credit 
therefor  by  name. 

It  was  a  little  after  dusk  when  the  train  rolled  under 
the  big  shed  at  Weldon,  where  an  immense  throng  was 
speedily  around  the  car  windows,  and  supper  was 
brought  to  us  in  the  car.  It  had  been  ordered  by  Lieut. 
McEwan  at  his  own  expense:  else  we  should  have  gone 
from  Raleigh  to  Portsmouth  without  a  morsel,  so  little 
care  had  our  captors  for  our  comfort. 

Among  those  who  called  on  me  in  the  car  was  Capt. 
H.  E.  T.  Manning  of  the  Roanoke  News,  (now  of  the 


98  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Baltimore  Medical  Journal)   who  was  the  last  North 
Carolinian  to  bid  me  farewell. 

On  passing  out  of  the  state,  the  Lieutenant  relieved 
us  of  the  handcuffs  in  accordance  with  his  promise  to 
me  in  the  morning. 

BY    BAY    BOAT 

Four  hours  run  through  the  darkness  over  the  Sea- 
board and  Roanoke — during  which  I  had  a  good  nap — 
and  we  reached  the  deck  of  the  steamer  Louisiana, 
bound  up  the  Chesapeake.  After  supper  quite  a  crowd 
of  passengers  followed  us  into  the  lower  cabin,  to  whom 
I  declaimed  at  considerable  length  and  vehemence,  de- 
nouncing the  outrage  of  which  we  were  being  made 
the  victims.  Generally  the  sympathies  of  the  bystanders 
were  with  us,  and  one  of  the  officers  of  the  ship  also 
seemed  to  take  great  interest  in  my  statements. 

DISHONORING  PROPOSALS 

On  our  return  to  our  appointed  place  in  the  lower 
cabin,  after  taking  supper  in  the  ordinary  dining-room 
of  the  steamer,  I  was  approached  by  one  of  the  so-called 
deputies,  who  with  the  introductory  remark  that  Hon. 
Clinton  L.  Cobb  of  the  1st  N.  C.  Congressional  Dis- 
trict, was  on  board,  and  had  expressed  a  wish  to  converse 
with  me,  began  to  urge  me  to  take  advantage  of  Mr. 
C's  interest  in  me  to  secure  a  pardon,  as  the  latter  had 
great  influence  at  Washington.  As  may  be  supposed  I 
did  not  permit  this  conversation  to  proceed.  Subse- 
quently, after  I  had  retired  to  one  of  the  open  berths 
around  the  sides  of  the  cabin,  Lieut.  McEwan  came  to 
the  side  of  the  berth,  and,  telling  me  that  Mr.  Cobb  had 
made  many  inquiries  about  me,  strongly  counseled  me 
to  make  peace  with  the  government  through  him  by 
revealing  all  I  knew  of  the  Klan,  and  soliciting  pardon. 
I  discarded  all  such  suggestions  but  expressed  my  grate- 
fulness for  his  personal  interest  in  my  unhappy  fate, 
and  assured  him  if  he  or  Mr.  C.  could  do  anything  to 
facilitate  my  release  upon  honorable  terms  I  should  be 
eternally  their  debtor.  The  Lieutenant  went  off  with 
the  remark  that  before  I  had  been  six  months  in  the 
Penitentiary  I  would  be  willing  to  get  out  on  any  terms, 
and  would  regret  my  folly  in  throwing  away  a  good 


The  Shotwell  Papers  99 

offer.  "If  I  retain  health  and  reason,  I  shall  not,"  said 
I :  though  as  I  lay  in  my  bunk  and  heard  the  splashing 
of  the  waves  outside,  as  the  vessel  ploughed  her  way 
onward  towards  the  far  North,  leaving  all  that  earth 
possessed  of  happiness,  and  affection  behind  me,  I  could 
not  but  feel  an  involuntary  dread  that  sooner  or  later 
I  must  succumb  against  my  will. 

THIRD  TIME  TEMPTED 

At  an  early  hour  next  morning,  one  of  the  guards 
escorted  me  to  the  barber's  saloon  to  have  my  hair 
dressed  as  my  head  was  throbbing  furiously  and  I  hoped 
it  would  have  some  relieving  effect.  Returning  we 
passed  through  the  general  saloon  where  Lieut.  Mc- 
Ewan,  and  Col.  Cobb  happened  to  be  playing  cards, 
after  "a  night  of  it."  The  former  sent  the  soldier  below, 
and  introduced  me  to  Col.  Cobb,  who  insisted  on  my 
taking  a  seat  with  them.  I  hesitated,  explained  that  I 
was  without  my  coat,  and  rather  unwell;  but  finally 
sat  down  at  their  table. 

Clinton  L.  Cobb,  of  Elizabeth  City,  is  a  native  of 
North  Carolina,  and  so  far  as  I  have  ever  heard,  is 
among  the  better  specimens  of  the  Radical  party  in  the 
state.  On  the  present  occasion  he  demeaned  himself 
with  proper  courtesy,  and  seemed  a  frank,  agreeable 
person.  A  little  man,  of  average  education,  good  na- 
tured,  and  of  better  reputation  both  as  to  private  and 
public  character  than  most  of  the  Southern  Scalawags; 
he  was,  of  course,  involved  in  all  the  wickedness  of  his 
party,  and  party  measures.  He  could  not  have  held  his 
post,  or  any  influence  whatever  had  he  not  acquiesced, 
if  not  actually  participating  therein. 

After  some  conversational  skirmishing,  manifestory 
of  his  cordial  interest  in  me,  and  desire  to  relieve  me 
from  the  fearful  fate,  already  over-hanging  me,  he  ad- 
vanced his  outposts,  and  remarked  that  he  had  recently 
come  from  the  National  Capital,  where  some  people 
were  pleased  to  intimate  that  he  had  considerable  in- 
fluence, and  he  had  had  a  good  deal  of  conversation 
about  me,  and  really  he  felt  sorry,  exceedingly  sorry, 
to  see  me  going  off  in  this  way !  It  was  too  bad !  He  had 
been  quite  surprised  that  so  little  had  been  done  for  me. 


100  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

"We  all  knew  well  enough  that  you  are  not  anything  like 
as  much  to  blame  as  the  real  leaders,  the  men  that 
started  this  thing  and  secretly  influenced  it  though 
all  the  time  keeping  in  the  background,  out  of  danger 
themselves,  while  perfectly  willing  to  be  elected  to  office 
by  the  operations  of  the  Klans." 

At  this  I  smiled — recollecting  a  case  or  two  that 
might  be  so  construed;  for  the  fellows  were  elected  to 
office  by  the  Klan,  and  yet  had  made  such  remarks  as 
that  all  the  trouble  was  due  to  "Confounded  fools  like 
Randolph  Shotwell  and  others" 

"Well,"  continued  Col.  Cobb,  "as  you  were  the  most 
prominent  of  the  prisoners  the  government  had  to  make 
an  example  of  you,  and,  of  course,  your  chance  of  par- 
don is  less  than  any  of  the  rest,  because  of  that  fact; 
and  then  you  know  you've  been  very  hard  on  Republi- 
cans in  your  papers,  and  they'll  do  all  they  can  to  keep 
you  till  your  six  years  are  up,  if  you  stand  it  so  long! 
But  my  friend,  it  is  downright  folly  and  madness  for 
you  to  go  to  Albany  Penitentiary  when  you  can  readily 
save  yourself,  and  do  a  good  work  for  the  country  in 
the  bargain!  If  you  will  only  make  a  full  statement  of 
all  you  know  of  the  Klan,  I  can  assure  you  of  immediate 
pardon,"  he  urged.  "Would  you  have  me  betray  my 
fellow-citizens  into  trouble,  and  violate  a  solemn  obliga- 
tion?" "Oh,  the  organization  is  entirely  broken  up:  the 
oath  is  no  longer  binding,"  cried  both  men,  in  a  breath. 
"For  that  matter,"  said  I,  "I  never  was  sworn  into  the 
Klan;  never  was  actually  a  member  of  any  secret  or- 
ganization whatever;  but  I  was  supposed  by  my  com- 
rades, and  friends  to  have  been  sworn  in,  and,  having 
allowed  them  to  confide  in  me  upon  that  supposition, 
I  deem  myself  firmly  and  eternally  bound  not  to  forfeit 
their  confidence."  I  added  that  there  was  much  in  the 
Klan  I  did  not  like,  or  approve  of;  but  that  I  felt  that 
some  such  association  of  white  men  in  favor  of  honesty, 
morality,  and  the  suppression  of  negro  brutality  to 
women  and  helpless  ones,  was  indispensable  at  that  per- 
iod ;  hence  had  lent  my  name  as  a  member  of  the  Order, 
though  I  had  never  been  an  active  member. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  101 

"You  see  the  Government  doesn't  want  to  convict 
the  poor  countrymen,  like  those  we've  got  down  stairs 
going  with  you.  They  are  not  the  real  leaders,  or  con- 
trollers, or  gainers  by,  the  Ku  Klux  movement.  I  am 
intimate  with  the  Administration,  and  I  can  tell  you — 
all  that  Grant  wants  is  to  get  hold  of  the  real  wire- 
pullers, the  men  who  hold  the  reins  and  use  the  Klan  as 
a  means  of  manipulating  the  Democratic  party,  and 
the  State.  So,  don't  you  see  your  chance?  You  know 
a  good  many  of  these  big-bugs  and  you  know  enough 
about  them  to  give  us  clues  that  will  open  up  the  whole 
business,  and  do  more  good  than  you  can  imagine.  Why 
I  tell  you  it  will  be  the  making  of  you!  We'll  guarantee 
that  all  the  plain  countrymen  shall  be  let  go,  and  the 
prosecutions  be  stopped;  then  they'll  owe  their  deliver- 
ance to  you  and  you  can  lead  them  just  as  you  wish. 
In  fact,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  refuse  to  save  these 
poor  men,  whose  joining  the  Klan  was  no  doubt  through 
your  influence." 

"There  you  are  wrong,"  said  I,  "I  do  not  now  recol- 
lect having  ever  asked  a  single  person  to  join  the  Order 
unless  it  be  a  few  personal  friends  who  have  never  been 
arrested,  and  are  not  likely  to  be ;  for  I  alone  can  furnish 
proof  against  them,  and  when  I  prove  untrue  to  my 
friends  may  I — lose  them!" 

"You  seem  to  have  already  lost  them."  he  murmured; 
whereupon  Lieut.  McEwan  joined  in,  saying,  "Yes,  I 
don't  want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  but  it  was  a  common 
remark  at  Raleigh  among  the  Republicans,  that  you 
seemed  almost  abandoned  by  everybody.  I  was  leaning 
against  one  of  the  big  pillars  in  the  Capital  and  I  heard 
one  of  your  party  leaders  telling  /another  that  you 
looked  guilty,  and  were  guilty,  and  if  you  got  ten  years 
at  hard  labor  it  would  do  you  good,  and  all  that  sort  of 
talk.  Why  they  couldn't  even  raise  three  thousand  dol- 
lars bail  for  you  to  be  released  until  Court  met !"  "That 
isn't  so!"  said  I,  interrupting,  "for  I  never  attempted 
to  get  bail  after  being  brought  to  Raleigh,  and  they 
wouldn't  allow  it  while  I  was  at  Rutherford."  "Well," 
he  replied,  "One  or  two  of  your  friends  tried  to  make  up 
bail;  for  it  was  common  talk  on  the  streets." 


102  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

"Yes,"  quoth  Cobb,  "All  the  leading  Democrats,  Sen- 
ator Ransom  and  the  rest  have  been  working  to  save 
Plato  Durham,  and  they've  succeeded  in  getting  his 
trial  staved  off  for  six  months,  or  longer.  But  as  for 
you  you  can  go  off  and  rot  at  Albany,  so  far  as  anybody 
cares.  And  now  will  you  put  up  with  that  sort  of  thing? 
Do  you  suppose  that  if  Durham,  McAfee,  H.  C.  Jones, 
David  Schenk,  Strudwick,  or  any  of  those  men  who  we 
know  well  enough  that  you  can  implicate,  would  go  to 
Albany  Penitentiary,  at  such  a  time  as  this — right  in  the 
beginning  of  winter — and  stay  there  six  years  when  they 
could  get  out  by  just  making  a  statement  of  all  they 
know  about  you,  and  your  connection  with  the  Klan?" 

I  hung  my  head  for  a  moment,  reflecting  how  utterly 
improbable  that  I  had  any  living  friend  who  would  thus 
suffer  for  my  sake — no,  not  one! — but  I  replied,  "Per- 
haps not:  perhaps  they  would!  I  should  not  ask  it  of 
them,  I'm  sure.  But  this  is  not  the  consideration  for  me. 
Candidly,  I  feel  rather  hurt  at  some  things ;  but" — 

"If  you  did  not,  if  you  mean  to  allow  those  men  to  use 
the  Klan  when  it  suited  them,  and  now  cast  you  off,  you 
will  be  a  queer  person !  Why  do  you  know  what  will  come 
of  your  six  years'  imprisonment?  You  will  have  lost 
the  best  of  life,  you  will  become  prematurely  old  and 
broken,  you  will  be  forgotten  by  everybody,  you  may 
lose  your  health,  etc.;  whereas  if  you  were  to  do  the 
square  thing  and  help  the  government  to  break  up  this 
Klan,  I'm  very  sure  you  could  get  a  nice  position  in  the 
Departments,   and  live  comfortably." 

"It's  not  worth  while  to  say  anything  more,"  said  I, 
very  sadly,  for  it  was  like  signing  my  own  warrant,  "I 
see  as  clearly  as  you,  or  any  man,  the  dark  future  that 
is  before  me,  and  I  much  doubt  if  I  shall  get  through  it 
all;  but  be  assured  of  one  thing,  gentlemen,  I  shall 
never  purchase  my  liberty  at  the  price  of  treachery  to 
my  comrades  and  dishonor  to  myself!" 

My  interlocutors  instantly  perceived  that  I  had  had 
no  thought  of  entertaining  their  suggestions,  and  both 
arose,  Lieut.  McEwan  shrugging  his  shoulders  with  the 
remark :  "I  like  your  pluck,  but  damn  your  discretion!" 


The  Shotwell  Papers  103 

Col.  Cobb  courteously  invited  me  to  take  breakfast 
with  them ;  and  at  first  I  consented,  going  down  to  the 
dining  room  with  them ;  but  as  I  did  so  a  queer  revulsion 
of  feeling  made  me  turn  and  go  down  below,  among 
my  companions  du  voyage.  Need  anyone  be  told  the 
secret  of  this  emotion?  It  was  not  the  suffering  behind, 
nor  the  years  of  torture  before:  it  was  the  sense  of 
abandonment,  desertion,  faithlessness;  the  realization 
refreshed  by  the  communications  of  these  outsiders, 
that,  after  all,  my  sacrifices,  and  silence,  and  suffering 
was  not  even  appreciated  by  those,  who  had  the  benefit 
of  it;  and  that  shortly,  I  should  be  quite  forgotten  by 
them.  Useless  to  speak  of  what  I  felt.  Strange  to  say 
the  remarks  let  fall  by  Lieut.  McEwan  as  to  the  blame 
put  upon  me,  by  public  sentiment,  and  the  failure  to 
obtain  a  paltry  $3,000  bail-bond  for  me,  at  Raleigh, 
(though  I  could  not  believe  any  such  attempt  would 
have  been  made  without  my  knowledge)  disheartened 
and  mortified  me  more  than  all  that  had  gone  before,  or 
was  yet  to  come ! 

Such  moods  are  dangerous  indeed!  they  make  men 
desperate,  and  Folly  is  twin  sister  to  Desperation.  If 
any  man  wonder  that  I  should  so  lay  to  heart  the  casual 
utterances  of  casual  acquaintance,  let  him  recall  a  pas- 
sage of  "Old  Curiosity  Shop's"  rare  gems  of  genius 
and  Truth:  'The  world,"  quoth  Charles  Dickens,  "the 
world  being  in  constant  commission  of  vast  quantities 
of  injustice,  is  a  little  apt  to  comfort  itself  with  the  idea 
that  if  the  victim  of  its  falsehood  and  malice  have  a 
clear  conscience,  he  cannot  fail  to  be  sustained  under 
his  trials,  and  somehow  or  other,  to  come  out  right  at 
last,  'in  which  case/  say  those  who  have  hunted  him 
down,  'nobody  will  be  better  pleased  than  we!'  Whereas 
the  world  would  do  well  to  reflect  that  injustice  is  itself, 
to  every  generous  and  properly  constituted  mind,  an 
injury  of  all  others  the  most  insufferable,  the  most  tor- 
turing,  and  the  most  hard  to  bear;  and  that  many  clear 
consciences  have  gone  to  their  final  account,  and  many 
sound  hearts  have  broken  because  of  this  very  reason; 
the  knowledge  of  their  own  deserts  only  aggravating 


104s  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

their  sufferings  and  rendering  them  all  the  more  un- 
endurable." 

True,  too  true!  oh  gifted  child  of  Genius,  and  won- 
derful Seer  of  the  Human  Soul!  Physical  persecutions 
slip  from  the  shoulders  like  "dewdrops  from  the  lion's 
mane,"  but  slander,  and  false-accusations,  when  ac- 
cepted for  the  truth  by  those  whom  one  has  trusted  and 
esteemed  as  friends  and  fellow  country  men,  acquire  the 
poisonous  properties  of  pervading  the  whole  frame, 
stirring  the  blood  in  the  veins  to  wild  torture  and  resent- 
ment, but  searing  the  spirit  with  death-wounds,  it 
may  be ! 

Landing  at  Baltimore,  and  proceeding  by  rail  north- 
ward, a  little  after  mid-day  we  passed  through  Phila, 
and  went  whirling  away  to  New  York.  During  the 
whole  route  from  Wilmington,  Del.,  to  Newark,  N.  J., 
I  pretended  to  sleep,  resting  my  head  on  my  arms  on 
the  back  of  the  desk  in  our  front,  with  a  handkerchief 
over  my  head,  silent  and  thoughtful.  I  did  not  wish  to 
look  upon  these  places,  where  I  had  spent  my  school 
days,  and  whence  I  had  gone  ten  years  before,  full  of 
boyish  pride  and  ambition,  whereas  instead  of  the  an- 
ticipated triumphs  of  life,  I  was  returning  with  man- 
acles on  my  wrists  and  a  guard  of  those  same  Yankees, 
I  had  gone  to  fight,  and  had  fought  so  long  as  my 
country  was  free,  escorting  to  a  Yankee  Penitentiary 
for  six  years  torture!  Surely  a  most  melancholy  out- 
come of  all  my  proud  hopes!  Little  matter  that  I  was 
the  victim  of  horrible  outrage  and  wrong;  who  would 
believe? 

We  began  to  approach  New  York  City  at  4  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  6th,  whereupon  Lieut.  McEwan  again 
clasped  the  handcuffs  upon  our  wrists.  About  sunset  the 
cars  rolled  to  the  Desbrosses  Street  Ferry  in  Jersey  City 
and  without  delay  we  boarded  the  ferry-boat,  bound  for 
New  York.  The  spectacle  of  eight  men,  handcuffed  in 
couples,  and  guarded  by  soldiers  in  full  uniform  (the 
artillery  uniform,  with  its  red  trimmings  and  brass 
epaulets  is  gorgeous  enough  to  attract  attention  even 
in  New  York),  speedily  gathered  a  large  crowd  of 
by-standers,  who  began  to  ply  us  with  questions.  Some 


The  Shotwell  Papers  105 

of  the  men  made  such  timid  and  modest  replies  that  I 
came  to  the  front  as  spokesman  for  the  party,  though 
very  nervous  from  lack  of  the  stimulants  of  which  we 
had  all  imbibed  freely  in  the  early  portion  of  the  day. 

Turning  to  the  spectators  I  said,  "I  shall  not  ask  you 
gentlemen  to  believe  anything  I  may  say  of  myself ;  but 
look  at  this  old  man,  David  Collins  of  South  Carolina; 
does  he  look  like  a  desperado,  or  midnight  marauder? 
He  was  an  humble  miller,  'tending  his  mill,  as  he  had 
done  for  a  generation.  One  night  a  gang  of  Federal 
deputy  marshals  went  to  his  home,  made  him  feed  them 
and  their  horses,  deceived  him  into  showing  them  the 
way  over  the  North  Carolina  line,  and  then  arrested 
him,  dragging  him  to  Rutherford  jail,  20  miles  away, 
leaving  his  poor  old  wife,  sick  in  bed,  without  a  nurse 
or  servant,  and  worried  nearly  to  death  about  the  old 
man's  disapparance.  Then  they  dragged  their  kid- 
napped victim  250  miles  to  Raleigh,  held  him  for  weeks, 
friendless,  penniless,  without  witnesses,  nor  any  knowl- 
edge of  what  were  the  charges  against  him,  (for  he  was 
innocent  as  a  babe  of  any  real  wrong-doing,  though  I 
believe  nominally  a  member  of  the  Klan  as  was  every 
other  decent  man  in  his  county)  finally  tried  [him]  be- 
fore a  packed  jury  (ten  low  whites  and  two  negroes), 
and  sentenced — well,  what  do  you  think  is  the  sentence 
of  that  grey-haired,  simple  hearted  old  man,  whose 
homely  respectability  is  written  on  his  face,  and  of  whom 
the  Judge  himself  admitted  there  was  no  specific  charge 
except  that  he  belonged  to  the  Union  League  [sic] 
(otherwise  called  the  Klan).  What  do  you  think?  Four 
years  at  hard  labor,  and  one  thousand  dollars  fine! 

"Then  there  are  others.  Here  is  this  little  man, 
Scruggs.  If  there  is  anything  desperate  or  cruel  in  him, 
I  fail  to  judge  physiognomy!  He  says,  and  his  neigh- 
bors say,  he  had  no  hand  in  any  law-breaking  and  was 
like  Collins  merely  a  nominal  member  of  the  Klan.  But 
in  a  few  hours  he  will  enter  Albany  Penitentiary  for 
two  years  hard  labor. 

"Then  here  are  Adolphus  DePriest,  and  Geo.  H. 
Holland;  neither  of  whom  were  participants  in  the 
vigilance  committee  operations  for  which  they  are  going 


106  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

to  Albany  under  two  years'  sentences.  They  may  have 
been  members  of  the  White  Brotherhood;  but  it  was 
not  a  treasonable  organization  any  more  than  is  the 
Union  League,  or  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic  to 
which  I  dare  say  many  of  you  belong." 

Etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

My  harangue  had  some  effect.  Several  spectators  de- 
clared it  was  a  shame  to  treat  men  in  this  style;  but 
other's  said  "Oh  damn  'em;  that's  their  tale!"  There  was 
one  practical  result,  not  to  have  been  expected.  The 
Raleigh  Jew  who  had  heard  my  remarks  slipped  around 
behind  Collins,  nudged  him,  and  handed  him  $3,  so 
secretly  that  few  saw  the  deed. 

Reflecting  that  this  was  generosity  pure  and  simple, 
for  there  could  be  no  return,  my  opinion  of  the  children 
of  Abraham  raised  about  half  a  mile. 

UP  THE   HUDSON 

Landing  for  a  moment  on  Manhattan  Island,  we 
marched  a  short  distance  up  the  dock  and  passed  aboard 
the  superb  steamer  Dean  Richmond,  destined  for  Al- 
bany. I  should  have  been  glad  to  see  the  magnificent 
scenery  of  the  far-famed  Hudson  especially  the  Pali- 
sades, within  sight  of  which  my  cousin,  rector  of  Engle- 
wood  Episcopal  church  resides;  but  we  were  marched 
straight  into  the  lower  cabin,  and  cooped  into  one  corner 
of  the  extra  dining-room,  only  used  on  occasion  of  great 
excursions,  etc. 

As  soon  as  the  lamps  were  lighted  a  large  concourse 
of  passengers  poured  down  into  the  cabin,  and  surged 
around  us  with  curious  eyes,  just  as  people  wander 
from  cage  to  cage  in  a  circus  menagerie,  and  their  ques- 
tions to  each  other  had  very  much  the  sound  of:  "Which 
is  the  giraffe?"  "Is  that  the  Man-Eater ?"  "This  beast 
looks  tame  enough!"  "Be  careful,  don't  agitate  the 
monkeys!",  etc.,  etc. 

Presently  a  sweet  faced,  small  footed,  little  woman 
in  mourning  dress,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  stout  old 
gentleman  with  paternal  ponderosity  of  bread  basket, 
came  half  way  down  the  stairs  and  leaned  over  the 
balustrades,  watching  us  very  much  as  women  watch 
wild  beasts,  i.e.  ready  to  run  at  a  moment's  warning! 


The  Shotwell  Papers  107 

My  companions  were  very  weary  and  crouched  together 
on  the  carpet  tamely  enough,  but  I,  though  equally 
tired,  and  almost  dead  from  nausea  and  nervousness,  the 
effect  of  continuous  travel,  in  my  bilious  condition,  could 
not  rest,  and  walked  to  and  fro  within  the  guard-limits 
very  much  like  a  bear  chained  to  a  stake,  or  a  village 
constable  conning  his  election  speech.  The  little  lady 
seemed  so  interested,  I  several  times  was  upon  the  point 
of  making  a  profound  salaam,  and  assuring  her  that  at 
present  we  were  quite  harmless,  having  eaten  up  one  or 
two  able-bodied  citizens  just  before  we  started  North- 
ward! Then  I  reflected  that  perhaps  this  little-footed 
lassie  was  a  Southern  girl,  or  a  Southern  sympathizer, 
and  was  really  interested  in  us,  not  simply  idly  curious. 

About  10  P.  M.  Lieut.  McEwan  came  down  with  two 
well-dressed  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  he  introduced  as 
"Colonel"  (of  Blank  Regiment  in  the  Next  War,  I 
suspect,  as  he  declared  himself,  "disabled"  by  a  boil  on 
his  arm,  which  he  carried  in  a  sling,  much  like  a  real 
veteran),  and  the  other  a  white-bearded  old  citizen  of 
Albany.  They  both  professed  to  be  Democrats,and  kind- 
ly disposed  towards  the  South,  but  were  too  patronizing 
to  suit  me.  The  civilian  amused  me  a  good  deal  by 
slipping  back  after  the  others  had  gone,  to  bid  me  be 
very  careful  how  I  talked  as  there  were  several  of 
Grant's  spies  on  board  ready  to  report  anything  I  might 
say.  Great  was  his  surprise  to  hear  me  declare  that  I 
would  rather  talk  my  views  to  U.  S.  Grant  himself  than 
to  any  of  his  truckling,  thieving,  and  unscrupulous  fol- 
lowers ;  that  I  had  nothing  whatever  to  conceal ;  that  I 
was  a  member  of  the  Klan,  and  should  be  again  if  the 
same  condition  of  things  should  render  it  necessary, 
and  as  for  my  sentiments  no  one  could  doubt  them  a 
moment  who  ever  knew  me ;  though,  of  course,  I  felt  the 
kindness  of  his  intentions,  and  did  not  at  all  doubt  the 
presence  of  the  spies ;  since  the  whole  country  was  being 
flooded  with  them.  He  no  doubt  thought  me  a  des- 
perado, indeed ;  as  the  army  officers  hold  that  Grant  can 
do  no  wrong,  as  strongly  as  any  jure  divino  monarchist. 


108  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

FIVE  MINUTES  OF  FREEDOM 

After  the  crowd  had  pretty  much  dispersed  to  bed, 
I  asked  one  of  the  guards  to  escort  me  in  search  of 
Lieut.  McEwan,  and  when  we  had  gotten  upon  the 
upper  deck,  where  a  large  number  of  bales  of  cotton 
were  standing  on  end,  I  explained  to  him  how  nervous 
I  was,  and  how  terribly  weak  and  prostrate  I  should 
be  in  the  morning  at  the  very  time  I  should  need  all  my 
strength  and  composure;  and  in  short,  I  urged  him  to 
give  me  his  gun,  and  let  me  hide  among  the  cotton  bales 
while  he  should  go,  and  get  a  flask  of  liquor  for  me; 
promising  all  the  change  from  a  pretty  big  note  if  he 
would  oblige  me.  "But  what's  ter  hinder  your  runnin' 
away  while  I'm  gone?"  he  hesitated.  "My  word  of 
honor,  which  I  give  you  to  stay  right  here!  Besides  did 
you  ever  hear  of  anybody  running  away  from  a  dram  of 
liquor?  Don't  wait!  Give  me  your  gun,  and  take  this 
flask!"  He  hesitated  the  nineteenth  part  of  a  half 
of  a  quarter  of  a  second;  then  said,  "Well,  I'll  trust 
you!"  and  left  me  for  fully  five  minutes,  sitting  among 
the  cotton  bales,  guarding  myself !  Could  I  have  broken 
faith  with  him,  it  would  not  have  been  difficult  to  escape 
as  there  [were]  scores  of  life-preservers  hanging  within 
reach,  and  the  steamer  was  within  almost  stone-throw 
of  the  shore,  and  the  night  too  dark  for  the  guards  to 
have  found  me  after  the  few  minutes  start  I  should  have 
had.  And  it  would  have  been  glorious  news  at  home,  and 
all  over  the  South  to  hear  that  I  had  escaped  almost 
within  sight  of  Albany!  But  I  had  given  my  word  and 
that  settled  it. 

It  is  very  sad  and  mortifying  to  mention  these  make- 
shifts to  sustain  the  ordeal  of  entering  the  Radical 
Bastile,  to  be  enrolled  as  a  felon;  but  it  should  be  kept 
in  mind  that  I  was  really  very  ill,  and  had  been  for 
several  weeks,  only  keeping  upon  my  feet  at  all,  by 
strenuous  exertion  of  pride,  and  a  determination  of  de- 
priving my  enemies  of  the  exultation  of  seeing  me 
"break  down";  supported  by  the  fictitious  strength  of 
stimulants. 

Consequently  as  soon  as  we  began  our  long  journey, 
and  especially  after  spending  a  day  and  night  on  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  109 

tossing  boat,  my  condition  became  even  physically  most 
pitiable,  aside  from  all  the  mental  mortification  and 
harassment.  Gladly  would  I  bury  the  recollections  of 
those  days  beyond  even  a  casual  thought  if  it  were 
possible;  but  it  is  not  possible;  nor  if  it  were,  would  it 
be  right,  for  in  sheer  justice  to  myself  and  my  actions 
both  before  and  after,  they  must  be  told,  and  recorded. 

Alas,  after  all,  my  prize  did  me  scarcely  any  good. 
The  soldier  no  doubt  helped  himself  from  the  flask,  in 
addition  to  keeping  the  "change;"  so  that  it  was  only 
partly  full.  Old  Mr.  Collins  and  I  occupied  the  same 
stateroom,  and  during  the  night,  as  I  lay  on  the  upper 
bunk,  too  nervous  and  sick  to  sleep,  I  heard  him  crying 
and  moaning  in  heart-broken  manner.  Poor  old  man! 
He  had  never  been  out  of  his  neighborhood  in  his  life, 
and  this  terrible  trip  of  nearly  a  thousand  miles  with 
four  years  of  hard  labor  awaiting  him  at  the  Peniten- 
tiary, his  destination,  was  too  much  for  him ;  particularly 
as  he  had  left  his  aged  wife  sick  in  bed  at  home!  To 
soothe  his  hysterical  emotions,  I  surprised  him  (for  he 
knew  nothing  of  my  upper-deck  adventure)  by  handing 
him  down  my  flask  of  stimulants,  bidding  him  drink 
in  welcome.  He  did  so,  and  though  not  addicted  to 
drink,  quite  emptied  the  bottle  in  two  swallows !  It  was 
a  calamity  to  me,  for  which  no  words  can  fully  convey 
meaning!  Good,  pious,  phlegmatic  folk,  whose  steady 
souls,  and  cool  blood  never  crave  any  stimulant,  or  ex- 
citement, or  sedative,  or  anodyne,  cannot  even  con- 
jecture my  feelings.  I  needed  the  liquor,  which  Collins 
unwittingly  drank,  as  much  as  a  man  in  last  stages  of 
fever  needs  the  physician's  medicine  and  treatment. 

It  is  the  wretched  mistake  of  many  Temperance  lec- 
turers and  most  ministers  to  underestimate  the  physical 
torture,  and  real  illness,  resulting  from  cessation  from 
stimulants;  Frequently  the  good  Parson  is  heard  lec- 
turing the  young  Inebriate  to  "abandon  his  suicidal 
course,"  "Be  a  man!"  "Exert  your  will!"  "Throw  off 
the  'thrall'!"  "Dash  Down  the  cup!"  etc.,  etc.,  when 
perhaps  the  youth  has  many  times  vainly  exerted  much 
more  will  in  endeavors  to  abstain,  than  he  himself  ever 
possessed!  Yea,  and  that  same  good  old  man  will  tell 


110  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

you,  when  asked  if  he  approves  of  smoking  or  chewing, 
"No!  It's  a  bad  habit,  a  beastly  habit.  But  I've  gotten 
so  used  to  my  pipe,  or  cigarette,  that  I  really  cannot 
dispense  with  it.  I've  tried  several  times  to  break  off, 
and  did  break  off  a  few  weeks,  but  it  made  me  so  miser- 
able and  nervous  I  took  it  up  again." 

He,  however,  would  never  recognize  how  many 
thousand  times  more  trying  is  the  sudden  cessation  of 
the  stronger  stimulants. 

Sleep  was  now  out  of  the  question,  and  I  could  only 
summon  what  was  left  of  my  resolution,  and  prop  my- 
self in  my  bunk  to  watch  for  day  through  the  small 
round  port-holes  which  afford  light  in  the  narrow  cabins ; 
the  door  being  locked  on  outside.  It  was  a  most  miser- 
able night-watch! 

Gradually  the  river  became  narrower  and  the  outlines 
of  the  shore  arose  from  the  expanse  of  black  water, 
which  itself  became  glazed  by  the  greyish  light  of  ap- 
proaching dawn.  Very  cold  and  dismal  it  all  appeared. 
Soon  the  sound  of  the  waves  flapping  among  the  reeds 
and  cavelets  on  the  banks,  began  to  echo  the  steady 
churning  of  the  steamer's  screw  paddles.  Yellow  lights 
began  to  twinkle  in  the  windows  of  farm-houses  along 
the  shore,  speedily  these  lights  became  very  numerous, 
indicating  the  suburbs  of  a  city.  The  outlines  of  tall 
factories  and  foundries  began  to  be  visible  through  the 
fog.  Several  vessels  at  anchor.  A  long  row  of  wharves, 
the  waves  dashing  up  under  them,  and  splashing  around 
the  barnacled  posts.  Surely  this  is  the  city!  And 
now  a  long,  loud,  deafening  screech  from  the  steamer's 
whistles  arouses  the  hundreds  of  passengers,  who  have 
slept  throughout  the  whole  night,  as  sweetly  as  if  at 
home  in  bed,  though  meanwhile  the  Richmond  has  tra- 
versed the  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  New  York 
to  Albany. 

Now  the  engines  are  "slowing  up,"  the  churning 
ceases,  the  bells  ring  with  occasional  clangor,  the  huge 
vessel  glides  in  among  a  forest  of  masts,  and  the  sound 
of  heavy  ropes  thrown  upon  the  wharf,  tell  us  that — 
WE  HAVE  ARRIVED ! 


CHAPTER  FIFTEENTH 

Albany  Penitentiary 

The  handcuffs  once  more  click  around  our  wrists,  we 
march  out  upon  the  slippery  wharf,  eyed  curiously  by 
the  disembarking  passengers,  and  start  for  the  Peni- 
tentiary which  is  more  than  a  mile  distant.  A  steady 
drizzle  of  rain  is  not  strong  enough  to  dissipate  the 
heavy  fog;  and  the  aspect  of  the  dilapidated  ware- 
houses, dripping  awnings,  muddy  streets,  and  sloppy 
sidewalks,  as  seen  in  the  cold  grey  light  of  this  October 
morning,  is  cheerless  and  dispiriting  beyond  description. 
It  is  a  great  change  of  climate  from  Raleigh  to  Albany, 
at  best :  but  coming  out  of  warm  cabins  into  this  chilling 
rain,  we  could  but  shiver  physically  without  considering 
the  still  more  dismal  fact  that  through  this  desolate 
suburbs  we  were  proceeding  to  the  Bastile  whence  some 
of  us  should  never  return !  Yet  at  that  moment  I  recol- 
lect having  some  strange  fancies.  Have  not  you  at  times 
heard  echoes  of  old-time  bells,  whose  chimes  may  have 
long  since  been  silenced?  Well,  the  deep  roaring  of  the 
steam-blowing  off  from  the  Richmond's  funnels  seemed 
precisely  the  same  throbbing  sonorous  monotone  I  heard 
in  childhood  as  one  "Fourth  of  July"  I  stood  upon  the 
grassy  dome  of  the  mammoth  "Indian  Mound"  at 
Grave-Creek,  on  the  Ohio,  and  listened  to  the  bells  of 
the  steamboats  passing  amid  the  dense  fog,  while  a  great 
excursion  steamer  exhausted  her  cylinders  at  the  wharf! 

How  wide  and  dismal  the  difference  between  the 
epochs  of  the  twin  echoes ! 

Lieut.  McEwan  at  first  missed  the  street  leading  to 
the  Penitentiary,  but  at  length  found  the  great  gate 
of  the  Park  surrounding  the  institution.  This  park 
embraces  some  twenty  or  thirty  acres  in  the  South 
Western  suburbs  of  Albany,  high  and  rolling,  and  kept 
in  continual  good  trim  by  a  professional  gardener.  A 
broad  gravelled  carriage  drive  winds  among  the  shade 
trees,  down  into  a  little  valley,  over  a  rustic  bridge,  and 
up  in  front  of  the  main  entrance  of  the  Prison,  which 
in  the  summer  time  when  the  lawn  is  green,  the  foliage 

111 


112  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

luxuriant,  and  the  numerous  flower  beds  in  full  bloom, 
might  be  supposed  some  wealthy  private  asylum,  or 
perhaps  a  Female  Seminary.  It  is  a  school,  but  one  with 
a  weary,  rigid  course  of  studies,  and  a  God-forsaken 
alumni. 

But  on  this  chill  October  morning  the  trees  were  leaf- 
less and  desolate,  the  grass  withered,  the  flowers  slain  by 
many  a  fierce  North  Blast;  and  the  Prison, — /  / 

The  Penitentiary  Buildings  occupy  six  acres  of  a 
level  plateau  or  ridge  at  the  western  end  of  the  grounds. 
The  main  building  is  a  long,  two-story  brick  structure, 
consisting  of  a  square  central  block,  (a  story  and  a  half 
higher  than  the  remainder  of  the  edifice)  and  two  wings, 
one  of  which  is  longer  than  the  other.  The  middle  block, 
and  each  of  the  extreme  sections  of  the  wings,  are  cov- 
ered by  mansard  roofs,  giving  something  of  the  outline 
of  the  three  domes  [sic~\  of  the  National  Capitol.  At  all 
the  eight  corners  are  battlemented  towers,  which  with 
the  heavy  cornices,  and  small  round  windows  in  the 
towers  suggest  the  general  idea  of  an  arsenal  or  citadel. 

On  the  middle  division  are  four  minarets,  or  spires. 
This  block  contains  the  main  entrance,  with  a  handsome 
office  on  the  left  of  the  hall  way,  and  the  Superin- 
tendent's parlor,  and  library  on  the  right.  Back  of  the 
"office"  is  the  "Guard  Room"  which  is  also  the  "Visitor's 
Reception  Room."  All  of  the  second  floor  is  devoted 
to  the  Superintendent's  residence  and  is  so  isolated  from 
the  remainder  of  the  building  that  any  one  brought  in 
blindfolded  might  live  for  months  without  knowing  he 
was  in  prison.  The  third  floor,  including  the  interior 
of  the  high  mansard  roof  is  the  Chapel.  Its  capacity 
may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  it  seats  800  persons, 
on  the  floor;  besides  100  or  more  females  in  the  gallery. 

The  wings  are  known  as  the  "North  Wing"  (for  fe- 
males) and  the  "South  Wing"  which  is  also  called  the 
"Main  Hall"  or  "Male  Hall,"  which,  indeed,  is  the 
main  body  of  the  prison,  as  here  the  bulk  of  the  convicts 
are  confined. 

Back  of  each  wing  is  a  square  yard,  (that  devoted  to 
males  having  about  six  acres)  enclosed  by  a  thick  wall, 
thirty  feet  high,  with  a  sentry  walk  on  top,  whereon  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  113 

guards  promenade  all  day,  armed  with  double  barrel 
shot-guns,  and  repeating  rifles,  watching  the  interior 
of  the  square,  and  ready  to  shoot  down  any  convict 
giving  the  least  trouble. 

In  the  Square  in  rear  of  the  Female  Department  are 
the  laundries,  bakery,  and  other  small  offices.  In  the 
"Male  Square"  are  the  shoe  and  chair  shops.  The  roofs 
of  these  buildings  rise  above  the  walls,  but  as  there  are 
no  windows  on  the  exterior  side  the  inmates  cannot 
see  out. 

Anyone  standing  on  an  adjacent  hill,  and  viewing  all 
the  white  washed  walls,  windowless,  and  deserted  might 
imagine  it  some  old  fortress  in  time  of  peace ;  or  perhaps 
he  might  fancy  a  resemblance  to  the  picture  of  the 
ancient  Greek  Acropolis,  where  tier  upon  tier  of  lovely 
white  walls  arise.  Yet  within  that  quiet  exterior  is  a 
small  city  of  1000  inhabitants,  all  busy  as  the  united 
population  of  no  town  or  city  ever  was. 

ENROLLED  AMONG  FELONS 

Never  had  Albany  Penitentiary  looked  more  gloomy 
and  forbidding  than  on  this  7th  day  of  October,  1871, 
as  our  weary  party  first  caught  the  sight  of  its  dull-hued 
towers,  massive  walls,  white  and  cheerless,  and  its 
strongly  barred  windows,  within  which  all  was  dark 
and  motionless  as  if  eternal  silence  reigned  in  this  mel- 
ancholy abode.  The  rain  pattered  unceasingly  from  the 
gaunt  and  leafless  trees  while  the  dense  fog  and  mist 
imparted  an  unwonted  severity  to  the  general  aspect  of 
the  pile  of  buildings  looming  on  the  hill  before  us. 

From  the  point  of  our  approach  not  a  creature  was 
visible,  but  as  we  reached  the  great  iron  door,  it  swung 
open  noiselessly,  as  if  by  machinery,  and  when  all  were 
entered  swung  shut  with  a  sullen  "slam!"  that  seemed  to 
echo  the  words — Gone !  Done !  And  truly  it  would  have 
been  in  keeping  with  the  place  to  see  written  in  deep 
black  characters  over  that  iron  arch  the  legend  from 
Dante's  Inferno: — 

"Abandon  Hope  ye  who  enter  here!" 
God    and    the    records    only    can    tell    how    many 
wretched  souls  entering  here  have  found  it  so!  To  my 


114  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

own  heart  the  sullen  bang  of  the  shutting  gate  was  a  pang 
whose  vividness  portrayed  it  to  be  the  death-knell  of  a 
last  secret  hope  I  must  have  cherished  despite  all  prob- 
ability, that  something  would  yet  turn  up  to  save  me 
from  this  fate.  Henceforth  there  remained  but  to — 
Endure! 

Remainder  of  Life 

Six  Years 
Hard  Labor 

Patience 

Philosophy 

Truth 

Pride 

And  thus  great  were  the  odds ;  a  heavy  burden  truly 
for  the  pedestal  of  Pride,  Patience,  and  Philosophy, 
even  though  joined  with  Truth!  It  was  a  fearful  future, 
and  the  reality  was  destined  to  prove  even  more  miser- 
able than  my  gloomiest  apprehensions.  But  to  the  facts ! 

As  the  outer  gates  swung  open  to  admit  us  a  loud- 
sounding  bell,  above  it,  clanged  the  announcement  of 
our  arrival,  which  had  been  telegraphed  in  advance. 
We  are  marched  to  a  door  in  rear  of  the  Main  Building, 
through  which  we  pass  into  the  Guard  Room,  which  is 
also  the  Visitors  Waiting,  or  Reception  Room.  It  is  a 
long  apartment,  with  windows  overlooking  the  prison 
yards.  The  floor  is  covered  with  oil-cloth,  there  are 
several  desks,  and  large  tables,  pictures  on  the  walls, 
and  two  or  three  dozen  cane-seated  chairs.  The  ceiling 
is  high  and  airy;  the  whole  apartment  wears  a  neat, 
clean,  and  cheerful  look.  Visitors  remark,  "This  isn't 
very  prison-like,"  and  go  away  admiring  the  admirable 
order  and  neatness  of  the  Institution! 

One  thing  may  have  been  overlooked — a  long  rack, 
against  the  walls  for  guns  and  pistols ;  also,  the  windows 
are  heavily  barred!  True,  the  bars  are  only  about  the 
size  of  a  broom-handle,  and  are  nicely  painted,  yet  you 
couldn't  cut  them  in  a  day!  The  sleek-looking  glove 
covers  every  feature  of  the  Prison  in  similar  style;  vis- 
itors see  only  the  glove  and  are  quite  enraptured  over 
it,  prisoners  feel  the  iron  beneath  the  glove,  and  many, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  115 

after  a  brief  effort  to  endure  it,  turn  their  faces  to  the 
wall — and  die! 

How  strange  is  fate,  how  wonderful  the  followings 
of  misfortune!  One  thought  I  had  frequently  reverted 
in  mind,  while  suffering  the  malicious  persecutions  of 
the  North  Carolina  Radicals,  was  that  when  finally 
taken  to  Albany  I  should  at  least  escape  seeing  any  of 
the  aforesaid  tribe,  and  should  be  relieved  of  their 
spiteful  malice  which  had  added  a  thousand  needless 
tortures  to  my  imprisonment.  Yet  the  first  face  I  saw 
within  the  Guard  Room  was  that  of  a  North  Carolina 
Radical,  E.  Hubbs,  post  master  of  Newbern,  editor  of 
the  Radical  organ  there,  and  holder  of  other  offices  to 
which  the  negroes  of  that  unfortunate  region  have  over- 
whelming mastery.  Why  should  Hubbs  be  here  at  this 
unusual  hour,  on  this  rainy  morning?  I  can  only  suppose 
he  was  visiting  his  home  (he  came  to  Newbern  with  the 
Yankee  army  during  the  War)  at  some  point  in,  or 
near  Albany,  and  hearing  I  should  be  enrolled  among 
felons  on  this  morning  came  with  a  party  of  friends  to 
witness  the  spectacle !  What  he  said  to  the  prison  official 
I  have  never  learned,  but  it  could  hardly  be  otherwise 
than  in  disparagement  of  me,  since  I  had  not  been 
sparing  of  the  Mongrels  and  Carpet-baggers  when  I 
published  the  Journal  of  Commerce  in  New  Bern.  Thus 
would  the  first  impression  received  by  my  keepers,  es- 
pecially the  "overseers"  and  "guards,"  several  of  whom 
were  standing  with  Hubbs  when  he  bowed  to  me,  be 
an  unfavorable  and  prejudiced  one!  But  I  had  gotten 
to  expect  all  sorts  of  "arrows  of  misfortune,"  and  really 
had  not  long  to  wonder  at  this  untimely  visit  of  one  of 
the  enemy;  because  the  anarch  of  mortification  was 
still — onward ! 

THE   LIVING  GRAVE 

Passing  through  the  Guard  Room,  wherein  every 
sound,  even  that  of  conversation,  is  suppressed  nearly  to 
the  tone  of  a  whisper,  we  are  taken  in  charge  by  a 
sullen  looking  keeper,  whose  thick-cloth  slippers  enable 
him  to  tread  noiselessly  as  a  cat;  and  are  escorted 
through  two  (double)  doors,  lined  with  green  baize  to 
exclude  every  sound  of  the  prison  and  down  a  flight  of 


116  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

steps  into  the  "Main  Hall,"  or  convicts  quarters,  a  vast 
hall  high  and  hroad  as  a  city  church,  and  containing 
features  which  at  even  the  first  sweeping  glance  has 
struck  a  chill  to  the  heart  of  many  a  casual  visitor,  much 
more  to  him  who  comes  to  pass  years  upon  years — per- 
chance all  of  life — within  it!  It  is  the  Convict's  Living 
Grave !  It  is  the  innermost  Inferno,  the  hopeless  hell ! 

The  prisoner,  once  securely  within  its  iron  jaws  be- 
comes an  hundred  times  more  abjectly  subject  to 
autocratic  rule  than  the  French  "galley-slave,"  or  the 
Siberian  "exile."  His  very  senses,  and  faculties  of  sight, 
speech,  hearing,  gesticulation,  motion  of  arms  and  legs, 
clothing,  food,  hours  of  sleep — all  are  controlled,  dom- 
inated, fitted  to  iron  rules  until  the  man  is  merged  into 
a  machine,  an  automaton  workman,  always  engaged  in 
silent,  solemn,  sombre  execution  of  a  round  of  pre- 
scribed toil,  dictated  by  the  master! 

To  myself,  never  having  so  much  as  seen  anything 
of  the  kind,  the  repulsive  features  of  this  abode  of  ig- 
nominy and  crime  were  horribly  oppressive.  The  simple 
aspect  of  the  interior  struck  me  with  a  chill  shiver,  as 
if  it  had  been  my  grave! 

Conceive,  if  you  can,  a  vast  hall,  fifty  feet  in  height, 
as  many  feet  broad,  and  two,  or  more,  hundred  feet  long, 
with  a  floor  of  stone  flagging,  and  tall,  barred  windows 
too  high  from  the  floor  to  admit  of  any  one  looking  out. 

In  the  middle  of  this  long  shell  of  brick  is  an  oblong 
block  of  masonry  eighteen  feet  thick,  and  running 
nearly  the  whole  length  of  the  building.  In  this  central 
block  are  the  cells,  honey-combed  in  regular  rows,  like 
the  port-holes  of  a  fort,  or  the  palings  on  a  garden  fence. 
Half  of  the  cells  face  towards  the  east,  and  at  their 
backs  the  other  half  face  towards  the  west. 

The  central  block  of  masonry  extends  from  the  floor 
to  the  ceiling,  and  the  honey-comb  of  cells  are  in  four 
rows  or  tiers,  one  above  another;  the  upper  tier  being 
fully  20  feet  from  the  floor.  Iron  balconies,  two  feet 
wide,  with  hand  rail,  supported  upon  iron  brackets  and 
stanchions,  run  the  entire  length  of  each  of  the  three 
upper  tiers,  to  give  means  of  access  to  the  cells.  Stair- 
ways at  each  end  ascend  to  these  narrow  galleries. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  117 

Each  tier  has  86  cells;  so  that  there  are  344  cells 
opening  into  the  "East"  corridor  and  into  the  "West". 
But  there  are  a  number  of  detached  cells  elsewhere. 
Between  800  and  1000  convicts  have  been  confined  in 
the  Prison  at  one  time.  Each  cell  is  three  feet  wide,  six 
and  one  half  feet  long,  and  the  same  in  height.  The  door 
is  a  frame  of  parallel  iron  rods,  like  a  cellar  grating,  or 
a  grid-iron.  The  rods  have  a  little  more  than  one  inch 
of  interval  between  them;  and  through  these  interstices 
must  come  all  the  air,  the  light,  the  heat,  the  sound,  that 
the  inmates  receive,  summer  or  winter.  Two  stoves  in 
each  corridor  are  supposed  to  furnish  warmth,  and  it  is 
possible  the  upper  tiers  of  cells  are  comfortable  but  the 
ground  floor  rarely  gets  the  chill  off  of  its  damp  and 
cavernous  interior  even  in  ordinary  wintry  weather  of 
that  latitude.  Of  this  more  hereafter.  As  for  light,  the 
the  lower  tiers  scarcely  know  what  it  is,  even  by  day. 
The  windows  do  not  come  down  nearer  the  floor  level 
than  about  nine  feet,  and  are  some  fifteen  feet  distant 
from  the  cell  doors.  In  cold  weather  the  glass  becomes 
heavily  frosted  by  the  steam  from  so  many  breaths, 
greatly  obscuring  the  light.  At  dusk  several  gas  jets 
are  lighted  at  the  side  of  the  lateral  wall,  but  are  ex- 
tinguished at  8  P.  M.  in  summer,  and  9  P.  M.  in  winter. 
Except  in  cells  directly  opposite  the  jet  the  light  is 
insufficient  to  read  without  straining  the  eyes. 

The  interior  of  the  cell  shows  four  bare  walls,  white- 
washed, (no  pictures  or  other  ornamentation,  are  al- 
lowed), a  wooden  slop-bucket,  an  iron  rack,  on  hinges, 
like  a  shelf,  a  straw  mattress,  ( or  canvas  bag,  filled  with 
coarse  straw)  and  two  blankets;  "Only  this,  and  noth- 
ing more!"  The  walls,  floor,  and  ceiling  are  all  of  stone. 

Viewed  on  a  cold  raw  day,  when  but  little  light  pene- 
trates the  murky  windows,  this  vast  human  hive — the 
cells  vacant,  the  iron  doors  thrown  back,  disclosing  the 
cold,  damp,  cheerless  interior,  like  so  many  caves  in  the 
side  of  a  massive  rock — is  indiscribably  gloomy.  Gloom- 
ier still  is  the  aspect  of  the  block,  when  the  inmates  are 
within,  so  that  each  hole  in  the  wall  shows  its  haggard 
face  either  crouching  at  the  door-bars,   seeking  light 


118  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  heat,  or  pacing  to  and  fro  within  the  narrow  limits, 
like  wild-beasts  in  the  circus  cages! 

Speaking  of  these  cheerless  hives,  (the  living  grave  of 
many  a  life  susceptible  to  noble  endeavor,  and  useful- 
ness were  an  opportunity  not  denied),  the  Right  Rev- 
erend F.  D.  Huntingdon,  Episcopal  Bishop  of  the 
Diocese  of  Central  New  York,  last  year  wrote  as 
follows : — 

In  our  fickle  fortunes,  in  the  fierce  assaults  of 
sin  and  dissolving  barriers  between  class  and  class, 
no  one  knows  whether  one  of  his  own  kindred  may 
not  be  dragged  in  there.  Think  of  living  in  a  big 
box,  of  which  three  sides  are  shut — a  dismal,  half- 
darkened  window,  more  than  fourteen  feet  away 
from  you  and  perhaps  above  you,  with  no  southern 
sunshine  even — in  a  cell  not  much  larger  than  an 
old  fashioned  oven  with  only  a  grated  opening 
two  feet  by  seven,  a  box  within  a  box,  and  wooden 
balustrades  to  deepen  the  darkness,  in  storms,  in 
fogs,  in  the  heat  of  summer,  with  sweltering  human 
forms  all  around  you  and  ventilation  impossible. 
Why,  it  would  make  the  blood  of  the  toughest 
Supervisor  boil,  and  he  would  go  mad. 

Almost  the  first  glance  around  the  vast  hall  was  ar- 
rested by  a  spectacle  surpassing  anything  I  have  yet 
portrayed.  Crouching  upon  their  knees,  or  crawling 
upon  all-fours,  to  scrub  and  mop  the  dark  stone  pave- 
ment, were  a  dozen  or  so  of  sallow-faced,  squalid  fellows, 
dressed  in  ill-fitting  and  dirty  suits  of  coarse  lindsey- 
woolsey,  half  of  each  garment  being  the  natural  grey, 
and  the  other  half  dyed  black,  or  tobacco  color.  Dirt, 
and  the  wetting  of  their  clothes  by  the  swabbing  ren- 
dered them  still  more  revolting.  Not  one  dared  to  raise 
his  head  to  view  the  party  of  newcomers,  but  each  man 
managed  to  cast  frequent  furtive  glances  from  under 
his  sunken  eyebrows  with  an  expression  of  half -idiotic 
curiosity  suppressed  by  spaniel-like  cringing  before 
the  overseer,  (who  yelled  at  them  to  "Keep  your  eyes 
down!  Go  on  with  that  scrubbing!  Mind  what  you 
are  about!")  that  struck  me  first  as  an  awful  revelation, 
then  as  a  pang  of  horrow !  as  a  knife  to  the  heart !  Great 


The  Shotwell  Papers  119 

Heavens !  were  these  the  fruits  of  prison-life !  Were  we 
all  doomed  to  sink  into  the  counterparts  of  these  cower- 
ing, sneaking,  and  hopeless  Soul-Dwarfs?  Far  better 
to  die  at  once!  All  that  ever  I  read  of  noble  intellects 
shrivelling  into  idiocy  under  the  wear  and  want  of  iron 
subjection  and  drudgery  seemed  verified  in  the  persons 
of  these  creatures !  Suddenly  my  spell-bound  gaze  was 
startled  by  a  sharp  metallic  voice  at  my  shoulder,  giving 
command,  "Fold  your  arms!  Turn  your  face  to  the  wall! 
Keep  your  eyes  on  the  floor!  Stop  looking  around! 
Stand  till  you're  called  for!" 

The  merciless  grip  of  Albany  Penitentiary  discipline 
had  closed  upon  us!  It  was  the  Deputy  Superintend- 
ent, or  Head  Keeper,  and  his  harsh,  despotic  tone  had  a 
grating  sound,  a  rasping  intonation,  such  as  never  be- 
fore had  been  addressed  to  my  Southern  ears,  even  when 
I  carried  a  musket  as  a  private  in  the  ranks  of  Lee's 
army,  and  I  almost  involuntarily  resented  it  by  a  look 
and  a  momentary  hesitation  turning  my  face  to  the  wall 
that  probably  cost  me  dearly. 

The  entire  party  were  made  to  stand  close  at  the  wall, 
heads  bowed,  eyes  on  the  floor,  arms  folded,  silent,  mo- 
tionless, weary,  sorrowful!  Young  Bailey  and  one  or 
two  of  the  "deputies"  who  had  come  with  the  escort 
passed  in  rear  of  us  and,  while  ascending  the  staircase, 
Bailey  called  to  me  to  say,  "Good-Bye!"  With  an  in- 
fraction of  orders,  I  turned  slightly,  bowed,  and  said 
"Farewell,  Sir!" 

Luckily  the  Wardens  were  not  immediately  present, 
and  no  reproof  was  given  us. 

The  waiting  was  long  and  tiresome.  None  of  us  had 
had  any  breakfast.  I,  myself,  had  eaten  nothing  for  the 
48  hours  previous;  being  too  sick  and  nauseated  to  en- 
dure the  sight  of  food ;  though  for  lack  of  it  I  was  now 
extremely  weakened,  and  could  scarcely  stand  without 
pressing  my  head  against  the  wall.  Yet,  so  strong  is 
pride,  I  stood  as  erect  as  possible,  and,  perfectly  mo- 
tionless while  every  nerve  and  sinew  seemed  snapping 
with  fiery  fever! 

Behind  us  were  the  many  new  and  sickening  sounds 
of  the  Prison,  the  clanging  of  the  iron  doors,  the  rapid 


120  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

footsteps  of  the  "Hall-Men,"  running  along  the  upper 
galleries  collecting  the  breakfast  pans  from  the  cells, 
the  distant  rumble  of  the  machinery  and  ponderous 
driving-wheels  of  the  engines,  and  the  harsh  voices  of 
the  overseers  ordering  the  "Hall-Men"  (a  special  class 
of  crippled  convicts,  and  those  imprisoned  for  30  days — 
too  brief  to  learn  a  trade),  or  reproving  some  man  for 
negligence,  a  strange,  but  suggestive,  medley  of  sounds ; 
amid  which  the  lazy  "slush,"  "slush,"  "slush,"  "Swash- 
slush,"  "Swash-slush,"  of  the  floor-moppers  was  a  con- 
stant reminder  of  the  horrible  degradation  here  dwelling ! 

Meanwhile  the  wind  had  risen,  and  was  driving  clouds 
of  icy  mist  down  upon  our  bare  heads,  from  the  open 
window,  through  the  latticed  bars  of  which  came  the 
keen  whistling  of  the  outer  storm,  telling  that  we  had 
arrived  just  at  the  beginning  of  winter,  not  such  winter 
as  we  had  known  in  Carolina's  temperate  clime,  but 
Arctic  iciness! 

"booked!" 

A  cat-like  step  behind  us,  a  tap  on  the  shoulder,  a 
slight  nod,  and  we  are  one  by  one  marched  to  a  desk, 
under  the  stairway  leading  to  the  upper  balconies,  where- 
on is  a  ponderous  folio,  half  a  foot  thick,  containing  the 
names  of  thousands  of  miserable  creatures  that  have 
been  dragged,  justly  or  unjustly,  within  the  shadow! 
The  "Deputy-Keeper"  rasps  the  formal  questions  like 
a  talking  machine: — 

"What  is  your  name  in  full?"  Answer:  Randolph 
Abbott  Shotwell!" 

"What  is  your  native  State?"  Answer:  "Virginia!" 
"What  State  do  you  come  from?"     Answer:  "North 
Carolina!" 

"What  is  your  age?  Height?  Complexion?  Color 
of  Eyes?  Occupation?" 

"Read  and  write?"  Answer:  "Tolerably!" 
"Use  tobacco?"  Answer:  "In  no  shape,  or  quantity!" 
"Temperate  or  intemperate? — At  this  question  I  was 
slightly  puzzled.  No  man  could  charge  me  with  being 
a  public  drunkard,  a  frequenter  of  bar-rooms  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort;  and  until  after  the  war  I  scarcely 
knew  the  taste  of  liquor.     But  as  the  sequence  (though 


The  Shotwell  Papers  121 

far  from  excused  thereby)  of  my  long  suffering  from 
fever  and  ague  (or  'the  chills,'  in  common  parlance)  in 
1866,  at  Newbern,  I  had  learned  to  drink  altogether  too 
freely  at  times,  and  as  already  stated  in  these  pages, 
had  suffered  the  torments  of  Tartarus,  both  physically 
and  mentally,  from  this  fatal  habit,  during  the  past  half- 
dozen  months.  Therefore,  when  he  repeated  the  ques- 
tion I  made  answer,  sorrowingly  as  here: — 

"Temperate  or  intemperate?" — "Not  habitually  tem- 
perate. Sir" 

"Married  or  single?" — "Unmarried,  and  so  to  re- 
main!" 

"I  did  not  ask  you  that!  Answer  what  you  re  ashed! 
No  more,  no  less!  "Now  go  back  to  the  wall!  fold  your 
arms,  and  keep  your  eyes  down!  Do  you  hear  me? 
Keep  your  eyes  on  the  floor;  and  stand  there  till  you  re 
wanted!" 

As  I  return  to  the  wall,  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  this 
watchful  and  wonderful  piece  of  human  machinery  tip- 
toeing, in  his  thick-soled  (listing  bottom)  slippers,  a- 
cross  the  hall  to  pounce  on  a  slovenly  rascal  who  is  down 
on  his  hands  and  knees  in  the  slops  of  the  floor — scour- 
ing, pretending  to  scrub,  but  making  signs  to  one  of  his 
fellows !  The  deputy  really  seemed  to  have  eyes  in  the 
back  of  his  head. 

Each  member  of  our  party  is  asked  the  same  ques- 
tions, the  answers  recorded,  and  thus,  in  a  brief  space, 
we,  eight  Southern  citizens,  as  free  from  crime  or  crim- 
inal taint  as  any  of  our  fellow  citizens  ( I  speak  for  my- 
self, at  all  events )  after  having  been  dragged  a  thousand 
miles  from  our  Highland  homes,  and  made  to  undergo 
all  manner  of  mortification,  calumny,  cruelty,  and  per- 
secution, were  finally  registered  as  eight  convicts,  sub- 
ject to  the  severest  sentences!  Can  you  realize  what 
this  means?  Can  you  conceive  what  it  is  to  find  your- 
self in  a  strange  land;  among  strangers,  in  a  Peniten- 
tiary, in  the  most  terrible  harsh  Penitentiary  in  America, 
sentenced  to  six  years  of  hard  labor,  afar  from  every 
relative  and  friend,  among  the  vilest  of  mankind,  and 
really  enrolled  and  uniformed  on  a  footing  of  equality, 
with  these  felons!     Can  you  even  imagine  what  it  is 


122  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

to  stand  thus  in  the  shadow  of  a  Penitentiary  and  upon 
the  threshold  of  "six  years  at  hard  labor!"  Great  God! 
the  very  recollection  recalls  a  fearful  shudder  such  as 
few  men  have  known,  I  hope! 

IN  CONVICT  GARB! 

Enrolled  as  felons  on  the  Prison  Register,  we  next 
must  be  clothed  with  the  felon  uniform.  It  is  the  cul- 
mination of  mortifications,  relieved  by  solely  one 
thought,  namely  that  the  clothes,  no  more  than  the  class- 
ification, as  convicts  cannot  taint  the  soul  of  him  who 
knows  he  endures  both  through  injustice  and  wrong 
of  powerful  enemies. 

"Go  to  the  barber's  chair,"  quoth  the  Warden.  In 
one  corner  of  the  hall  was  a  large  chair,  a  shelf,  and  a 
negro  convict,  denominated  the  "Barber,"  whose  time 
was  occupied  in  shaving  the  heads  and  beards  of  the 
prisoners.  He  was  a  spiteful,  malicious  rascal,  and 
made  himself  truly  Barba-rous  to  many. 

Forgetting  my  situation  I  foolishly  remarked  to  the 
turnkey,  "I  shaved  last  night,  and" — The  sentence  was 
never  finished!  "Sit  down!"  roared  the  keeper.  "Do 
as  you  are  told,  and  no  talk  about  it!"  The  tone  of  ab- 
solute command  made  my  ears  burn,  and  my  heart  ache, 
during  all  the  time  my  hair  and  beard  were  being 
shorn,  barbarously.  And  yet,  so  near  are  tears  and 
laughter,  I  came  near  bursting  into  a  laugh,  at  the 
comical  expression  of  my  comrades  when  their  heads 
were  shaved.  Few  men  have  any  idea  how  much  they 
owe  to  hair  and  whiskers.  The  hirsute  appendage 
constitutes  all  the  difference  between  a  passable  look- 
ing man  and  a  very  ugly  looking  monkey. 

Next  we  are  marched,  one  by  one  to  the  bath-tub,  a 
big  iron  pan  or  tub  in  a  niche  of  the  wall.  The  cold, 
October  blasts  are  driving  down  through  the  open  case- 
ments, and  the  damp  flags  are  not  pleasant  for  bare  feet, 
yet  we  are  forced  to  strip  in  puris  naturalibus  and 
make  a  pretense  of  "washing"  though,  in  my  case,  the 
overseer  was  pleased  to  remark  that — "Your  skin  is 
mighty  white,  for  such  a  hairy  man!  I  reckon  you 
don't  need  washin.  ( Is  it  possible !  How  kind !  Thanks ! 
— I  thought,  but  took  precise  care  not  to  think  out 


The  Shotwell  Papers  123 

loud) — "Cornel  git  out,  and  put  on  this  here  jacket,  an' 
breeches!" 

This  "Ordeal  of  the  Bath"  was  excessively  disagree- 
able to  me,  not  only  on  account  of  the  extreme  cold,  but 
because  any  well-bred  gentleman  of  delicacy,  and  de- 
cency, naturally  revolts  at  such  exposure  amid  such  a 
gang.  But  I  suppose  there  are  not  many  inmates  of 
the  place  who  care  in  the  least,  and  it  would  make  no 
difference  to  the  prison  officials  if  they  should  care;  the 
bath  is  really  an  excuse  to  strip  and  inspect  the  new 
convict  to  see  if  he  may  not  have  letters,  or  money,  or 
weapons,  etc.,  concealed  about  his  person.  For  the  same 
reason  his  underclothing  is  all  taken  away,  and  thor- 
oughly examined,  lest  these  articles  (especially  money, 
wherewith  to  bribe  the  guard)  should  be  quilted  in  the 
linings. 

As  for  our  outer  clothing,  including  our  linen  shirts, 
collars,  cravats,  cuffs,  etc.,  all  was  rolled  into  a  bundle, 
tied  with  a  bit  of  twine,  to  which  a  wooden  label  is 
attached,  the  name  written,  and  the  bundle  tossed  into 
the  "clothes  vault,"  there  to  remain  until  the  prisoner  is 
freed,  either  by  death,  pardon,  or  limitation.  This  sure- 
ly is  a  needless  piece  of  severity,  as  it  would  do  no  harm 
to  allow  the  prisoner  to  have  his  own  shirts,  and  to  wear 
a  cravat  and  collar. 

"Git  into  them  duds!"  repeated  the  turnkey,  impati- 
ently. But  the  "gittin'  in"  was  not  so  easy  as  neither 
article  was  large  enough.  The  shirt  was  a  plain  canvas 
sack,  precisely  like  a  coffee  sack  with  short  sleeves  sewed 
at  the  sides.  It  had  neither  bosom,  collar,  nor  cuffs, 
and  was  so  coarse  the  sensation  was  very  much  like 
"Sackcloth,"  or  the  use  of  a  flesh-towel! 

"Them  draw-yers  and  sock-ses  you  kin  git  nex'  week 
"when  they  is  marked,  and  'xamin'd!"  vouchsafed  the 
turnkey  in  answer  to  my  look  of  surprise  at  being  left 
without  underclothing  in  such  climate. 

The  prison  garb  consists  of  a  short  jacket,  a  waist- 
coat, and  a  pair  of  pantaloons,  all  made  of  coarse, 
greyish  linsey-woolsey,  part  of  jacket  being  of  a  light 
grey,  the  other  half  very  dark,  almost  making  a  contrast. 
Both  jacket  and  pantaloons  were  many  sizes  too  small 


124  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  too  short  for  me.  Indeed  there  were  features  of  this 
uniform  that  annoyed  more  than  I  shall  attempt  to  tell 
here. 

The  head  covering  was  a  "sailor's  tarpaulin,"  or 
round,  rimless,  cloth  cap,  of  a  light  blue  color,  and  with- 
out any  stiffening  whatever.  These  blue  caps  were 
originally  made  for  the  United  States  navy,  but  were  not 
accepted.  They  give  an  "uniform  appearance"  to  the 
convicts,  but  are  very  unfit  for  such  a  climate  as  they 
have  no  rim  to  shield  from  sun,  rain,  sleet,  or  icy  blasts. 

LOCKED  IN  ''CELL  NO.  NINE^ 

I  have  tried  to  speak  lightly  of  these  details,  though 
when  taken  together,  and  under  the  circumstances,  they 
constituted  a  most  harassing  ordeal.  Bravely  as  I 
sought  to  bear  them  I  was  almost  broken  down,  and 
finally  the  warden,  who  was  not  a  cruel  man  at  heart, 
remarked  my  paleness  and  tremors,  for  the  stripping 
entirely  nude  in  the  cold  damp  atmosphere  (the  7th  of 
October  at  Albany — 150  miles  due  North  from  New 
York — is  much  more  wintry  than  the  7th  of  December 
at  Raleigh)  had  given  me  a  thorough  chill,  whereupon 
he  gruffly  asked  "Hello!  What's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"I  am  very  weak,  and  seem  to  be  getting  a  chill!"  I 
responded. 

"Oh  pshaw!  that  aint  it!  You're  only  a  bit  nervous. 
Most  fellers  feels  it  fust  time  they  comes  here  .  You'll 
git  over  it  purty  soon!  Howsomedever,  you  kin  go  in 
that  cell,  Number  Nine,  an'  wrap  up  till  you  gits  warm." 

And  he  took  me  by  the  arm,  for  I  was  ready  to  fall 
headlong  on  the  flagging.  Prisoners  alone  know  the 
meaning  of  the  word  grateful!  The  little  touch  of 
friendliness  by  the  Hall- Warden  (who  soon  afterwards 
was  discharged  for  not  enforcing  the  regulations  rigidly) 
made  me  forget  instantly  all  his  rough  and  uncouth  ut- 
terances ;  and  thank  him  as  if  he  had  done  me  great  favor. 

For  furniture  there  is  a  wooden  bucket,  a  small  vessel 
for  drinking  water,  and  an  iron  bedstead  fastened  to  the 
wall  on  hinges,  like  a  leaf  of  a  dining  table,  or  a  shelf. 
It  is,  in  fact,  simply  a  shelf  attached  to  the  wall  at  the 
height  of  two  feet  from  the  floor,  and  designed  to  be 
turned  up  against  the  wall,  when  not  used  as  a  bed.     A 


The  Shotwell  Papers  125 

straw  mattress,  a  straw  pillow,  round  and  rigid  as  a 
log  of  wood,  with  three  blankets,  constitute  the  only  bed- 
ding; which  must  all  be  hung  upon  the  wall  when  not 
in  use.  A  common  Bible,  and  small  box  for  salt,  com- 
plete the  list  of  furniture.  "Only  this,  and  nothing 
more" — in  the  words  of  the  song — is  allowed  in  the  cells ; 
except  it  be  a  few  small  articles  of  toilet  service,  such  as 
brushes,  combs,  and  mirror,  that  may  be  secreted  be- 
hind the  bedding.  No  pictures,  or  any  other  ornaments, 
are  allowed  to  be  exhibited;  the  object  being  to  have 
the  walls  of  the  cells  clean,  bare,  and  glistening  with 
white  wash.  As  may  be  supposed,  the  effect  is  to  ren- 
der them  cold,  cheerless,  and  depressing  in  the  highest 
degree;  vastly  different  from  the  cells  of  most  State's 
prisons,  which  are  enlivened  by  many  a  trinket,  cromo, 
mirror,  or  other  "home-like"  contrivance,  according  to 
the  prisoners  taste. 

Turning  down  the  iron-bed  rack,  I  hurriedly  stretched 
the  dirty  blankets  thereon,  and  myself  on  the  blankets. 
The  Warden  slammed  the  iron  door,  locked  it,  and  went 
after  another  of  the  Klansmen. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  sensation  of  oppres- 
siveness on  being  first  locked  into  these  narrow  cells. 
Bishop  Huntington  described  them  as  boxes  of  stone 
with  an  iron-grating  at  one  end.  To  me  it  seemed  more 
like  entering  a  damp  and  mouldy  vault;  for  each  cell 
is  about  as  wide,  as  long,  and  as  deep  as  a  well-dug 
grave ! 

Alas!  they  are  in  truth  a  grave  for  many  a  man;  a 
tomb  wherein  have  withered  and  perished,  not  only 
many  a  bright  reputation  and  youthful  ambition,  but 
also  many  a  soul  for  which  there  might  have  been — Re- 
demption. 

TAKE   OFF   THEM   SHOES 

As  advised  by  the  Hall- Warden  I  had  lain  down  on 
the  blankets  but  did  not  cover  myself  with  them,  be- 
cause they  were  very  dirty  and  odorous  the  cell  having 
been  just  vacated  by  some  filthy  fellow — possibly  a 
negro — and  I  shrank  from  touching  them  more  than 
was  absolutely  necessary.  I  did  not  take  off  my  shoes, 
because  my  stockings  were  taken  from  me,  and  I  needed 


126  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  warmth  of  the  shoe;  which,  moreover,  was  much 
cleaner  than  the  blankets.  Indeed  I  was  too  miserable 
to  think  much  of  it  one  way  or  another. 

But  suddenly  I  found  myself  "warmed  up"  disagree- 
ably. A  dark  shadow  had  crept  to  the  cell  door,  and 
the  rasping  voice  of  the  deputy-keeper  bade  me,  "Get 
up  there !  Get  up  and  take  off  them  shoes !  Don't  you 
know  enough  to  take  off  your  shoes  when  you  go  to 
bed!" 

The  tone  was  so  stern,  yet  contemptuous,  it  struck 
me  like  a  blow  in  the  face !  For  I  was  powerless  to  re- 
sent it,  or  even  worse!  I  was  as  helpless  as  a  dog  that 
one  might  spit  upon,  and  kick  brutally  without  any 
danger ! 

Half  stupified,  and  wholly  stupid,  I  returned  some 
answer  about  my  shoes  being  cleaner  than  the  musty 
blankets,  but  he  cut  me  short  with  a  loud  "Shut  your 
mouth!  Not  a  word!  Not  a  word  out  o'  you!  You 
take  off  them  shoes.  What's  the  matter  with  them 
blankets?     They're  good  enough  for  you!"  etc.,  etc. 

I  had  not  yet  learned  the  full  rigor  of  the  discipline, 
and  did  not  know  how  grievously  I  had  sinned  in  thus 
"answering  back."  Ah !  how  bitterly  I  was  learning  my 
lessons!  For  some  time  after  this  occurrence  I  sat  on 
the  iron  rack  mentally  as  well  as  physically.  Anger 
was  at  first  the  predominating  feeling,  for  it  seemed  out- 
rageously unjust  to  censure  me  where  it  was  evident  I 
meant  no  wrong.  Then  gloom  and  despondency  fell 
round  me  like  the  blackness  of  a  fearful  storm;  for  in 
these  few  hours  I  realized  the  hopelessness  of  escaping 
maltreatment  even  among  these  strangers.  Thought 
seemed  to  wander  in  a  circle,  beginning  with  the  agon- 
izing interrogation,  "Can  it  really  be?  Is  it  not  all  a 
dream  that  I — that  I — am  really  in  a  Penitentiary?" — 
and  coming  round  again  to  the  same  question,  "Surely 
this  is  not  real!     'Tis  some  hideous  dream!" 

But  the  "Deputy"  had  just  put  all  'dreaming'  out  of 
my  head  for  many  a  long  day! 

A  PETTY  PRISON  NERO 

As  the  Deputy- Superintendent  is  more  feared  than 
the  Superintendent  himself,  and  is  an  hundred  times 


The  Shotwell  Papers  127 

more  hated,  by  the  prisoners,  because  he  is  never  ab- 
sent from  them,  and  is  in  direct  and  pitiless  mastery 
over  them;  and  as  he  is  to  appear  very  often  in  my 
journal,  it  may  be  proper  to  glance  briefly  at  his  gen- 
eral character. 

If  it  be  true  that  some  men  are  born  already  shaped 
and  equipped  for  certain  walks  of  life,  Deputy  Scrip- 
ture must  have  been  born  in  a  prison,  and  molded  to 
become  its  keeper.  If  ever  there  was  a  born  prison 
keeper  this  was  the  man.  His  habits  were  regular  and 
stolid  as  a  machine's;  and  his  character  was  that  of  a 
martinet,  unrelieved  by  the  vicissitudes  and  interruptions 
of  circumstance  that  often  prevent  the  military  marti- 
net from  developing  fully.  Albany  Penitentiary  sys- 
tem is  human-clock  work,  without  the  slightest  change 
or  deviation  during  the  365  days  of  the  year;  so  that 
the  deputy  had  full  opportunity  to  make  himself, 
as  he  was,  the  arbitrary,  unbending,  uncaring,  un- 
ceasing, "Lord  and  Master"  of  the  miserable  men  com- 
mitted to  his  power.  Neither  Roman  Nero,  nor  Span- 
ish Philip,  nor  Turkish  Sultan,  nor  Russian  Czar,  was 
ever  invested  with,  or  at  least  ever  exercised,  the  des- 
pot's supremacy  over  his  basest  serfs  that  this  man, 
or  the  Superintendent,  of  whom  he  was  the  executive 
agent  and  representative,  daily,  hourly,  momentarily 
exerted  over  the  inmates  of  this  prison.  The  Autocrat 
of  all  the  Russias  may  cut  off  a  prisoner's  head,  or  send 
him  to  snowy  Siberia ;  but  the  Deputy,  is  absolute  mas- 
ter of  my  sight,  speech,  food,  clothing,  occupation, 
medicines,  posture,  and  every  action  of  my  daily  life! 
When  I  speak  to  him  I  must  fold  my  arms,  and  assume 
an  attitude  of  humble  supplication.  If  I  am  sent  for 
from  the  workshops,  I  must  fold  my  arms  across  my 
breast,  Hx  my  eyes  on  the  floor,  and  thus  cross  the  square 
(open  and  bleak  though  it  is)  and  enter  his  presence, 
or  go  to  meet  my  father,  looking — in  this  style ! 

The  Deputy  is  a  medium-size,  square-shouldered  man, 
compactly  built,  and  standing  habitually  with  feet 
(which  are  large  and  flat  as  two  red  bricks)  very  wide 
apart,  planted  as  if  he  meant  to  stand  like  the  Colossus 
of  Rhodes  with  a  foot  on  each  side  the  harbor.     His 


128  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

neck  is  short,  and  stocky;  hands  large.  His  hair,  and 
a  full  beard,  are  black  as  jet,  as  are  also  his  eyes,  giving 
him  a  rather  handsome  visage,  when  his  features  are 
relaxed  from  the  expression  of  cat-like  watchfulness 
fast  becoming  habitual.  The  short,  firm  upper  lip  are 
those  of  a  tyrant;  his  keen,  vigilant  eyes  are  those  of  a 
detective,  and  they  have  a  really  wonderful  faculty  of 
seeing  an  hundred  minute  details  at  a  single  glance, 
so  swift  and  disguised  that  I  myself  could  have  seen 
nothing  whatever  in  it. 

His  power  over  the  under-officers  of  the  Prison  is 
almost  as  rigorous  as  over  us.  Like  the  Roman  Cen- 
turion, he  has  but  to  "Come  hither,"  "Go  hither,"  "Do 
this,"  and  they  do  it!  For  this  reason  he  is  much  dis- 
liked, perhaps  hated,  but  feared,  and  obeyed.  .  .  -1 

MARCHING   IN 

At  the  time  we  arrived  the  cells  were  open,  the  iron 
doors  thrown  back;  and  the  men  nearly  all  out  in  the 
shops  at  work.  So  that  after  the  breakfast  pans  had 
been  gathered,  and  the  cells  brushed  out,  and  the  floor 
of  the  corridors  mopped  with  sand,  and  the  windows 
all  lowered,  the  great  compartment  became  almost  quiet. 
Now  and  then  the  shadow  of  a  turnkey  passed  in  front 
of  my  door,  as  he  peered  between  the  bars,  watching  to 
see  what  I  had  in  hand:  but  as  they  all  wore  cloth- 
slippers,  the  sound  was  scarcely  perceptible. 

In  this  quietness  I  must  have  fallen  into  a  doze,  being 
thoroughly  exhausted,  for  suddenly  I  sprang  up,  with 
a  nervous  start,  at  hearing  an  incomprehensible  loud 
roaring  sound,  as  if  one  had  awakened  to  find  all  the 
doors  and  windows  slamming  amid  a  hurricane !  It  was 
bewildering  for  a  moment.  Then  I  caught  the  slapping 
of  hundreds  of  feet  on  the  pavement,  the  roar  of  hun- 
dreds more  feet  passing  along  the  iron  balconies,  over- 
head, and  then  a  successive  shower  of  sounds  made  by 
slamming  the  iron  doors  of  the  cells,  as  column  after 
column  ascended  to  the  three  upper  tiers,  and  into  their 
cells.     The  meaning  of  this  roaring-banging  noise  sound 

1  A  quotation  from  an  article  in  Appleton's  of  March,  1874,  on  New  York  prisons, 
is  here  omitted. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  129 

then  was  the  return  of  the  convicts  from  the  work  shops 
to  eat  their  frugal  meal. 

The  first  row,  or  ground  tier,  was  last  to  come  in,  and 
my  heart  stood  still  as  I  heard  the  regular  tramp-stamp ! 
— tramp-stamp ! — tramp-stamp !  coming  along  the  corri- 
dor, each  foot  striking  the  pavement  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. Presently  the  line  passed  my  cell,  and  it  was 
with  a  shudder  I  noted  it.  Oh!  that  I  had  skill  to 
picture  these  scenes — those  men ! 

The  men  were  in  a  single  file,  back  and  breast  touch- 
ing, each  man  with  his  hand  on  the  right  shoulder  of  the 
man  in  front  of  him;  the  leader  having  his  arms  folded 
on  his  breast,  and  his  whole  body  thrown  back  to  resist 
the  forward  pressure  of  the  long  line  behind  him. 

Each  convict  carries  on  his  left  arm  a  red  bucket  for 
slops :  it  has  a  thick  wooden  cover  and  serves  for  a  seat  in 
the  cell. 

Each  convict  wore  the  same  greyish  suit,  jacket,  pan- 
taloons cut  in  the  old  fashioned  style  (with  front  flap), 
and  the  round  blue-cloth  sailor's  cap.  Every  man  put 
down  his  foot  at  the  same  moment  making  a  stamping 
sound;  and  all  were  required  to  face  towards  the  over- 
seer who  walked  at  the  side  of  the  line,  keenly  watching 
the  men's  eyes  to  see  that  none  are  raised  from  the  floor, 
not  any  convict  whispering  to  another. 

The  effect  of  the  long  line  of  men,  all  moving  like 
machines,  all  with  faces  fixed  and  expressionless,  and 
every  eye  downcast  is  not  a  pleasant  one. 

When  the  line  arrives  in  front  of  its  tier,  each  man 
separates  from  the  rest,  hastens  into  his  cell,  pulls  the 
door  shut,  and  holds  it  until  it  has  been  locked  by  the 
overseer  who  passes  quickly  from  door  to  door  locking 
it. 

The  lower  tier,  embracing  66  cells,  have  but  a  single 
inmate  per  cell,  as  was  intended  for  all,  (and  surely  a 
room  3  feet  wide,  by  6%  long,  and  the  same  in  height 
is  but  narrow  limits,  for  even  one  grown  person!)  but 
owing  to  the  over-crowding  of  the  institution  by  the 
Federal  Courts  nearly  all  the  second  and  third  tiers,  and 
a  portion  of  the  fourth,  have  two  men  in  each ! 


130  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

A  SECOND  SLAP 

Some  time  before  the  convicts  came  in,  a  tin  pan  (cap- 
able of  holding  half  a  gallon)  was  placed  on  the  pave- 
ment, just  outside  my  cell  door,  containing  my  dinner; 
viz — a  slice  of  loaf  bread,  a  piece  of  gristle  of  some  kind 
of  dark  meat,  and  4  small  potatoes.  It  was  now  two 
full  days  since  I  had  eaten  a  mouthful,  but  I  had  no  relish 
for  such  diet  as  this,  especially  as  it  had  become  entirely 
cold,  and  the  pan  greasy!  However  I  was  about  to 
learn  that  my  likes  or  dislikes  were  of  not  the  least 
consequence. 

After  the  convicts  were  all  locked  in,  the  overseer,  a 
reddish-haired,  irascible  rascal,  named  Ross  (if  I  am 
rightly  informed),  who  delights  to  pull  his  whiskers  on 
each  side  of  his  chin,  a  la  Dundreary — and  is  very  over- 
bearing, suddenly  appeared  in  front  of  my  cell,  and 
curtly  demanded — 

"Why  aint  you  up,  an'  a-holdin'  the  door?" 

"Sir?"  said  I,  getting  up,  and  coming  to  the  door. 

"Take  hold  of  it!"  he  cried,  in  sharper  tone. 

I  hesitated;  not  having  the  slightest  idea  as  to  his 
meaning;  whereupon  he  roared: — 

"Take-hold-of-that-door!  Take  them  bars,  in  your 
lef  hart'!" 

Still  ignorant  of  his  wishes,  and  confused  by  his  abu- 
sive manner,  I  stupidly  grasped  the  door  with  my  right 
hand,  not  knowing  that  in  this  case  the  right  was  wrong. 

"Confound  you!  Blockhead!  Take-hold-of  this 
door  with  your  left!"  he  roared,  in  a  passion. 

"Yes,  but  I  did  not  understand  what  you" — 

"Shut  your  gab!"  he  interrupted,  "and  pick  up  that 
pan!" 

At  last  I  had  caught  an  idea  of  what  was  wanted. 
It  is  the  rule  of  the  prison  for  each  man  to  stand  at  his 
door,  holding  it  with  his  left  hand  so  that  the  moment  the 
turnkey  inserts  his  key  and  unlocks  the  door  the  man 
may  push  it  open,  seize  his  dinner  pan  with  his  right 
hand,  and  hastily  spring  backward  into  the  cell,  drawing 
the  door  shut  after  him,  and  holding  it  tightly  until  the 
turnkey  re-locks  it.  By  this  means  300  cells  are  locked 
in  a  few  minutes.     A  simple  thing  enough  when  ex- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  131 

plained,  (and  half  dozen  words  would  have  told  me  pre- 
cisely what  I  should  do )  but  as  unintelligible  from  the 
overseer's  abrupt  commands,  as  if  he  had  yelled  at  me 
to — "Flip-flop  crosswise!" 

As  may  be  supposed  there  was  little  pleasure  in  a 
meal  obtained  through  such  an  ordeal.  Instead  of  eat- 
ing it  my  impulses  all  prompted  me  to  trample  the  stuff 
under  feet,  and  hurl  the  pan  at  the  head  of  the  low  fel- 
low who  had  so  unreasonably  insulted  me. 

A  BITTER  STRUGGLE 

This  third  rebuff  within  the  three  first  hours  of  my 
incarceration  was  bitter  indeed!  It  fell  upon  me  with 
staggering  effect,  as  if  one  who  had  been  wounded  and 
weakened  so  that  he  could  scarcely  keep  upon  his  feet, 
were  struck  a  tremendous  blow  in  the  face ! 

For  a  long  time  I  sat  on  the  narrow  cot  (which  serves 
for  a  seat  as  well  as  a  bed),  brooding  over  the  astonish- 
ing fact  that  I  had  been  thus  hectored  and  abused  by 
men  whom  I  should  not  have  thought  of  treating  as  my 
equals  in  any  respect,  morally,  mentally,  socially,  or 
physically.  Yet  whom  I  had  not  dared  to  reply  to, 
or  resent!  The  very  fact  that  my  indignation  must  be 
concealed,  and  the  brow-beating  received  in  stolid  sil- 
ence, made  the  aggravation  many  times  stronger.  The 
resentment  of  a  sour,  moody,  disposition  is  far  deadlier 
than  your  passionate  person  who  explodes  with  dreadful 
wrath  then  forgets  in  an  hour !  and  the  reason,  I  imagine, 
is  that  anger,  like  steam,  is  safest  when  unconfined. 

Twenty  minutes  after  the  men  were  locked  in  their 
cells,  a  large  gong  sounded,  the  overseers  hastened  to 
their  respective  tiers,  and  at  a  second  tap  of  the  gong 
the  noise  I  have  described  was  repeated  as  the  six  or 
seven  hundred  convicts  tramped  along  the  iron  galleries, 
down  the  stairs  and  out  into  the  work  shops :  all  moving 
in  the  same  single  file,  lock-step,  silence,  and  down  cast 
eyes. 

It  was  a  sickening  spectacle — the  long  line  of  lanky 
forms,  and  haggard  faces,  as  they  passed  my  cell  door, 
going  out  for  five  hours  more  of  drudgery.  Truly,  as  a 
writer  has  said,  "There  is  no  melancholy  so  impressive 
as  that  of  a  convict.     There  are  no  faces  that  so  fioc  them- 


132  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

selves  on  the  memory,  so  some  that  may  be  seen  in  these 
gatherings  of  the  worst  and  lowest  of  mankind!  The 
principal  reason  is  that  they  have  been  shaven  perfectly 
bare.  They  have  been  robbed  of  those  veils  of  hair  that 
have  kept  so  many  secrets  of  the  physiognomy,  and 
their  tell-tale  lips  stand  revealed!" 

Sitting  back  in  the  twilight  of  the  cell,  and  watching 
the  procession  filing  past  the  narrow  door,  was  like  wit- 
nessing a  panorama  of  Portraits  from  Pandemonium; 
a  succession  of  sullen,  sallow,  soulless  faces!  or  sharp, 
sneaking  suspicious  faces!  or  silly,  snickering,  shame- 
less faces!  or  sad,  solemn,  suffering  faces!  nearly  all 
indicating  ignominious  idiocy,  in  greater  or  less  degree. 
And  no  wonder !  For  they  rarely  see  or  hear  anything 
to  suggest  new  ideas  or  divert  the  tendency  of  gloomy 
introspection. 

"Great  God!"  I  murmured,  as  the  echoes  of  the 
heavy  tramp !  tramp !  tramp !  tramp !  died  away  into  the 
outer  yard.  "Can  it  be  that  I,  too,  must  become  as 
these!  Shall  I,  too,  acquire  that  hideous  expression  and 
stamp  of  degradation?  Never!  Never!  Sooner,  let  me 
die!  Yea!  a  thousand  times  sooner  let  me  die,  and  be 
thrown  into  the  Potter  s  field!" 

Yet  there  seemed  no  other  alternative.  How  vividly 
arose  upon  my  memory  all  that  ever  I  had  read  of  the 
wreck  of  mind  and  body  wrought  by  long  imprisonment 
and  abuse!  How  the  victims  of  Venice  were  reduced 
to  mere  gibbering  idiots!  How  the  Huguenots  in  the 
French  galleys  preferred  drowning  to  mental  death! 
How  Tasso's  reason  tottered,  and  Bunyan  became  the 
"Crazy  Tinker." 

And  how  much  to  be  envied  were  these  illustrious 
prisoners,  since  they  were  simply  confined,  not  subject- 
ed to  daily  drudgery,  unceasing  watching  and  above 
all,  surrounded  by  the  associations  and  attributes  of 
Felony ! 

Ten  years,  a  dozen  years,  merely  shut  up  in  a  room, 
but  supplied  with  books,  writing  material,  and  ordinary 
prison  treatment,  would  have  been  a  great  boon  in  ex- 
change for  only  sice  years  of  life  in  this  fearful  treadmill 
where  the  body  is  made  to  drudge  continually,  while  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  133 

mind  is  left  to  sicken  and  wither,  while  the  soul  is  warped 
to  basest  emotions! 

Already  I  had  seen  that  no  wish  of  mine  to  obey  the 
requirements  of  the  institution,  and  thereby  escape  in- 
sulting usages  would  be  of  any  avail.  Thrice  already 
had  my  ears  been  made  to  burn,  and  my  soul  to  grow 
hot  with  passion  at  unsparing  rebukes  for  offences  aris- 
ing from  ignorance! 

THE  LAST  FAMILIAR  FACE 

During  the  afternoon,  as  I  sat  on  the  bed-rack, 
wrapped  in  blankets,  and  almost  unable  to  hold  my 
head  from  against  the  dirty  wall,  the  doorway  suddenly 
became  darkened,  and  Lieut.  McEwan  appeared,  un- 
der vigilant  convoy  of  the  Deputy.  Seeing  me  in  con- 
vict garb,  barefooted,  and  miserable,  he  looked  shocked, 
and  thrust  his  hand  between  the  bars  of  the  door  to  grasp 
mine,  saying  in  a  tone  of  sympathy — "This  will  never 
do!  I  must  get  you  outl"  His  friendliness  led  me  to 
throw  off  reserve,  and  speak  to  him  as  if  a  friend,  reply- 
ing that  I  heartily  hoped  he  could  do  something,  as  I 
felt  that  a  long  period  of  this  life  would  kill  me.  In- 
stantly the  Deputy  interjected  himself  with  the  de- 
mand: "What's  the  reason  o'  that?  What's  to  hinder 
you  from  standin'  it  ?  All  you  got  to  do  is  ter  make  up 
your  mind  to  grin  an'  bear  it!"  Probably  he  had  no 
idea  that  this  kind  of  hectoring  was  one  of  the  tortures 
of  the  life! 

I  made  no  direct  response,  but  said  that  while  I  had 
no  hope  of  release — I  should  feel  grateful  for  anything 
he  (Lieut.  McEwan)  might  do  towards  affecting  it. 
"Well  you  can  count  on  me,  I  am  going  to  see  Judge 
Bond  in  Baltimore  in  behalf  of  Collins  and  Scruggs  as 
I  promised  while  we  were  coming  here;  and  I  mean 
to  talk  to  him  about  your  case."  Of  course  I  could  not 
forbid  these  kindly  intentions :  though  I  saw  nothing  to 
be  gained  thereby.  Lieut.  McEwan  seemed  really  de- 
sirous of  extricating  me  from  the  position  in  which  my 
enemies  had  forced  me.  And  as  his  was  the  last  friend- 
ly face  I  should  probably  see  in  years,  this  farewell  visit 
affected  me  more  than  I  should  have  supposed  possible 
from  a  blue-coated  Yankee  officer;  one,  also,  who  had 


134  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

just  lent  his  services  as  a  soldier  to  support,  and  carry 
out,  the  political  persecutions  of  our  Radical  oppressors. 

Ah!  how  dreadful  the  situation  that  makes  even  the 
humiliated  victim  ready  to  shed  tears  of  gratitude  for 
common  courtesies! 

The  remainder  of  the  day  was  gloomiest  of  my  life. 
Too  weak  to  sit  upright,  and  too  nervous  to  rest  a  mo- 
ment in  one  position  I  tossed  on  the  narrow  iron  rack 
that  serves  for  a  bed,  until  it  threatened  to  fall  with 
me;  as,  indeed,  it  afterwards  oftentimes  did.  The  af- 
ternoon was  cold,  dark,  and  rainy,  the  half  congealed 
drops  rattling  against  the  great  windows  across  the  cor- 
ridor with  a  keen  suggestion  of  the  dreary  winter  so 
fast  approaching.  The  bare  greyish-walls,  stone  floor 
and  roof,  of  the  cell,  on  this  damp  day  were  to  my  unac- 
customed eyes  the  very  fac  simile  of  a  burial  vault,  and 
the  unaired,  unclean  blankets  had  much  of  the  musty 
odor  of  the  dismal  tomb.  The  dense,  murky  clouds  drift- 
ed so  low  as  almost  to  obscure  the  outer  windows  so  that 
even  the  halls  were  shrouded  in  gloom;  while  the  little 
light  .... 


CHAPTER  SIXTEENTH 

The  Early  Days — The  First  Sunday — Chapel  Service 

"Ugh!"  What  does  this  mean!  Clang!  Clang!  Clang! 
the  peal  of  the  great  gong  at  the  end  of  the  hall  warns 
every  one  to  spring  up,  and  get  ready  to  go  out  to  work. 
But,  No!  this  must  be  Sabbath  morning,  and  there  is 
no  work,  save  for  a  portion  of  the  inmates.  But  each 
man  must  get  up,  roll  up  his  blankets,  hang  his  mattress 
against  the  wall,  and  stand  by  the  door,  with  hand  on 
the  bar,  ready  to  stoop  and  pick  up  his  breakfast- 
dish  when  the  turnkey  unlocks  the  door. 

To  awaken  from  a  restless,  unsatisfying  sleep,  amid 
the  chilly  twilight  of  a  cloudy  October  morning,  and 
find  oneself  an  inmate  of  the  narrow  cell  of  a  Peniten- 
tiary, on  the  first  of  a  succession  of  more  than  two  thou- 
sand similar  awakenings  to  the  same  spot;  to  find  no 
water  for  washing,  no  comb,  brushes,  glass,  or  other 
toilet  articles ;  to  hear  near  by  the  muffled  sounds  of  five 
hundred  fellow  prisoners,  shuffling  on  their  coarse  gar- 
ments, or  pacing  to  and  fro  on  the  hard  pavement  with- 
in the  cramped  space  allotted  each  for  a  home;  to  feel 
oneself  utterly  relaxed,  chilly,  damp,  forlorn  and  op- 
pressed— What  situation  more  deplorable!  And  if  to 
all  this  be  added  mortification,  just  self  reproach,  and 
utter  despair  of  recovering  from  thrown  away  oppor- 
tunities— if  this  could  be  imagined  by  the  reader  he 
would  understand  —  much!  Happily  there  was  no 
great  leisure  for  brooding. 

The  morning  is  dark,  damp,  and  chilly,  and  I  am 
more  nervous,  tremulous,  and  unrested  than  yesterday, 
for  the  sustaining  effect  of  excitement  and  desperation 
is  wearing  off.  Gladly  would  I  stake  a  full  year  of  my 
life — however  short  it  may  be — for  some  relief,  some- 
thing to  quiet  my  quivering  nerves,  and  aching  body 
which  seems  in  a  condition  of  collapse,  from  head  to 
foot!  But  neither  liquor,  tobacco,  nor  sedatives  can 
be  had  in  prison,  and  I  could  not  even  see  the  surgeon 

135 


136  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

until  some  time  near  mid-day.  What  then?  Mental 
resolution  must  stand  for  physical  strength  until  help 
come.  I  drag  on  my  ill-fitting  convict  garb,  and  stag- 
ger to  the  door;  take  in  the  breakfast  pan  and  almost 
gag  at  the  sour  smell  of  the  ec  corned-beef"  hash  ( merely 
chopped  corned-beef,  and  the  crumbs  and  crusts  of  bread 
left  from  yesterday  (no  potatoes,  onions,  or  seasoning) 
all  of  which  has  been  stewing  in  the  immense  kettles 
ever  since  mid-night ;  and  however  palatable  while  fresh 
and  hot,  is  now  in  that  luke-warm  state,  (the  pans  for 
all  the  convicts  are  filled  and  set  in  front  of  the  cells, 
before  a  single  door  is  opened;  hence  those  first  filled, 
as  was  mine — cell  No.  9 — become  perfectly  cool  before 
eaten)  that  may  be  compared  to  "dish-slops."  With 
the  hash,  there  is  given  a  slice  of  bread,  and  a  pint-cup, 
two-thirds  full  of  a  dark-looking  fluid,  with  occasional 
specimen  of  parched  wheat  and  rye,  bits  of  burnt  bread 
crusts,  and  perhaps  once  in  a  year  a  stray  coffee-bean, 
amid  the  sediment  to  show  that  the  stuff  is  issued  as 
"coffee."  Exactly  what  the  chief  ingredient  is  I  never 
ascertained,  but  I  subsequently  learned  that  it  is  known 
as  "Prison  Coffee,"  and  sells  at  about  twenty  per  cent 
less  than  ordinary  bean-coffee.  I  give  these  particu- 
lars thus  minutely  because  the  same  breakfast  and  din- 
ner are  issued  throughout  the  year,  and  the  same  system 
of  daily  coming- and-going  is  carried  on  without  an 
instant's  variation. 

On  this  first  Sabbath  morning  in  a  felon's  cell  it  matters 
little  to  me  what  food  is  offered ;  I  drink  a  portion  of  the 
"coffee,"  nibble  at  the  crust  of  the  bread,  and  then  slide 
the  pan  under  the  bed,  out  of  sight.  One  cannot  quickly 
forget  old  habits ;  and  it  is  not  appetizing  to  sit  on  a  roll 
of  musty  blankets,  to  fish  chunks  of  reddish  beef  out  of 
a  greasy,  not  overly  clean  pan,  before  one  has  performed 
his  ablutions.  But  here  is  neither  washpan,  mirror, 
towel,  comb,  brush,  or  soap.  True  there  is  no  need 
for  brush  or  comb — the  barber's  weapons  have  provided 
for  that — but  a  basin,  soap,  and  towel,  I  long  for.  I 
shall  learn  presently  that  the  convicts  wash  their  faces 
and  hands  but  once  a  day,  and,  as  with  every  thing  else, 
do  it  at  set  hours  under  the  regulating  tap  of  the  bell. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  137 

Even  as  I  am  thinking  of  it,  the  front  of  the  door  is 
darkened  by  the  Deputy,  who,  with  the  same  arbitrary 
emphasis,  notifies  me  to  "Get  ready  to  go  out,  and  wash!" 
Only  this  and  not  one  word  more.  Clang!  Clang!  goes 
the  gong;  footsteps  rattle  down  the  guard-room  stair- 
way; the  jingling  of  keys  is  heard,  and  each  overseer, 
beginning  at  the  head  of  his  row  passes  from  cell  to  cell, 
unlocking  the  doors,  at  a  rate  of  speed  surprising  to  a 
stranger.  Within  three  minutes  all  the  three  hundred 
cells  are  thrown  open  and  the  men  out.  The  march- 
ing line  is  instantly  formed  in  the  following  order;  the 
man  in  cell  number  1  steps  out  about  three  feet  in  front 
of  his  door,  folds  his  arms,  and  faces  towards  the  big  door 
that  opens  into  the  yard.  The  man  in  cell  No.  2,  steps 
out  in  the  same  way,  walks  up  behind  No.  1,  and  lays 
his  right  hand  on  No.  l's  shoulder.  The  inmate  of  Cell 
No.  3  steps  up  behind  No.  2,  and  lays  his  right  hand  on 
No.  2's  shoulder.  No.  4  does  likewise,  and  so  do  all 
the  rest  until  a  line  of  30  or  more  men  are  thus  formed ; 
each  with  a  long  red  slop -bucket  on  his  left  arm,  and 
his  right  arm  grasping  the  shoulder  of  the  man  before 
him.  All  must  cast  their  eyes  in  the  same  direction,  at 
the  feet  of  the  overseer,  who  marches  on  the  side  of  the 
line,  10  steps  distant  from  it.  When  all  are  ready, 
the  Deputy  taps  with  his  heavy  cane  on  the  flag-stones, 
and  each  overseer  gives  the  word  "Forward!"  All 
step  off  together,  stamping  heavily  with  the  left  foot 
like  soldiers  marking  time.  Filing  through  the  main 
door,  along  a  narrow  flag  pavement,  around  three  sides 
of  the  four-acre  yard,  until  the  first  man  of  the  long  line 
is  at  the  door  of  the  work  shop.  "Halt!"  is  then  the 
order;  "Set  down  your  buckets!"  (at  this  all  the  slop 
buckets  are  deposited  on  a  line  with  the  outer  edge  of  the 
side  walk;  then  "Forward!"  again,  and  into  the  work 
shops,  where  every  man  hastens  to  his  bench,  takes  off 
his  cap,  and  jacket,  which  he  hangs  under  the  bench, 
rolls  up  his  sleeves  above  the  elbow,  folds  his  arms  and 
stands  mute  and  motionless,  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
bench  before  him! 

Up  to  the  point  of  reaching  the  desk,  and  rolling  up 
the  sleeves,  the  same  routine  is  observed  every  day  in 


138  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  year,  without  variation.  But  on  Sundays,  instead 
of  going  to  work,  the  convict  folds  his  arms,  as  just 
stated,  and  stands  like  a  statue  until  his  turn  to  go  and 
wash.  When  all  are  at  their  benches,  the  overseer 
mounts  his  raised  dais  (whence  he  can  look  into  every 
convict's  eye,  if  for  an  instant  raised, )  and  leaning  over 
the  front  of  the  desk  watches  the  motionless  figures 
before  him,  while  with  one  finger  he  sounds  the  hand 
bell;— 

Ting!  (No  1  goes,  and  washes).  Ting!  (No.  2 
goes)  Ting!  (No.  3  goes),  and  so  on.  About  sixteen 
seconds  are  allowed  each  man  to  perform  his  ablutions. 
The  "wash-tank"  stands  a  few  paces  from  the  overseer's 
desk,  and  is  supplied  with  dirty  river  water  ( I  never  saw 
it  really  clear)  from  faucets  directly  over  the  basins. 
The  towel  is  merely  a  long  band  of  coarse  material, 
(similar  to  the  bagging  towels  so  common  in  the  cabins 
of  the  South)  on  rollers ;  the  one  towel  serving  more  than 
a  score  of  filthy  faces,  one  third  of  whom  are  black  as 
soot. 

It  was  a  severe  "pill,"  when  my  turn  came,  to  follow 
to  the  "wash-tank,"  a  big,  greasy,  odorous  negro,  whom 
all  the  soap  in  Albany  could  not  have  washed  to  a  decent 
cleanliness!  It  had  happened,  (let  us  imagine  it  acci- 
dental, whether  or  not)  that  I  was  placed  at  a  bench 
whereat  there  was  a  negro  on  my  right  hand;  conse- 
quently when  the  men  were  called  one  after  another 
from  the  benches,  the  negro  came  directly  before  me  as 
above  stated.  However  I  went  forward  without  hesi- 
tancy ;  though  taking  care  to  simply  dabble  in  the  basin 
with  my  fingers,  (I  had  already  refreshed  my  face,  in 
my  cell  by  pouring  water  from  one  hand  to  the  other, 
over  my  slop-bucket). 

When  all  were  washed,  the  signal  to  re-form  the  long 
line  was  given,  and  again  the  thundering  tramp!  tramp! 
tramp!  tramp!  tramp!  tramp!  echoed  within  the  high- 
walled  court-yard,  as  the  convicts  were  marched  back 
into  the  main  hall,  and  then  each  man  to  his  cell.  The 
overseer  rapidly  glides  along  the  front  relocking  the 
cell-doors,  which  are  held  in  position  by  the  inmates, 
(as  when  taking  in  breakfast)  so  that  there  is  no  pos- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  139 

sible  chance  for  slipping  outside,  because  if  not  held 
shut  by  the  prisoner  within,  the  door  would  swing  open, 
and  the  overseer  could  not  fail  to  observe  it.  Soon 
after  our  return  to  the  cells,  one  of  the  turnkeys  appears 
with  a  tray  of  books  from  the  Library,  one  of  which  he 
thrusts  between  the  bars  of  the  door,  and  passes  on.  I 
pick  up  the  book  and  find  it  to  be  one  of  a  Sunday  school 
series,  about  as  interesting  as  a  primer.  Yet  how  soon 
I  learned  to  look  for  the  coming  of  that  book  tray  as  the 
one  agreeable  thing  in  all  my  weekly  round  of  life !  For 
there  were  some  books  worth  reading  and  when  I  chanc- 
ed to  draw  one  it  was  a  real  "prize,"  for  it  kept  my 
thoughts  diverted  and  permitted  me  to  exercise  my  mind 
by  trying  to  remember  during  the  week  what  I  had  read 
on  Sabbath. 

On  this  first  Sunday,  (and  second  day)  in  the  Peni- 
tentiary there  was  little  room  in  my  mind  for  anything 
of  that  kind.  I  obeyed  every  order,  and  awaited  the 
passing  hours  in  a  state  of  stupefaction — moving  me- 
chanically like  an  automation.  There  was  a  mental, 
and  bodily  cause  therefor. 

IN  THE  CHAPEL 

At  9  A.  M.  the  hall-gong  clangs,  "One!  Two!  Three! 
Four!"  "Prepare  to  go  out  to  Chapel!"  Instantly  the 
rattle  of  unlocking  the  cells  is  heard  and  the  centipede 
lines  are  formed  as  when  going  out  to  the  shops.  But 
the  "head  of  the  column"  does  not  lead  the  way  out  of 
the  great  door.  "All  Ready!"  he  calls  from  the  top  of 
the  first  flight  of  a  narrow  (2  feet  wide)  staircase  which 
winds,  and  ascends  from  one  short  platform  to  another 
until  the  level  of  the  top  of  the  hall-room"  is  reached, 
40  feet  above  the  flag-pavement.  Here  a  double  door 
opens,  and  another  flight  of  fifteen  steps  ushers  the 
climbers  upon  the  floor  of  the  Chapel,  on  the  third  story 
of  the  central  block  of  the  main  building. 

Of  course  the  ascent  is  made  in  single  file,  by  divisions 
closely  watched  by  guards  stationed  at  each  stair-land- 
ing. Every  convict  walks  with  down  cast  eyes  and 
folded  arms,  doubtless  presenting  a  novel  sight  to  the 
stranger  privileged  to  stand  at  the  wicket  in  the  guard 
room  door,  and  survey  the  multitude  of  gray-clad  con- 


140  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

victs,  of  all  colors,  ages,  and  sizes,  drawn  up  in  single 
lines,  waiting  for  the  turn  of  each  to  step  forward  and 
follow  his  "next  door  (cell)  neighbor"  up  the  winding 
staircase  which  fairly  creaks  under  the  weight  of  so 
many  climbers. 

To  me,  the  tiresome  waiting,  in  the  stern  hallway, 
surrounded  by  all  the  evidences  and  attributes  of  igno- 
minious punishment  and  long  pending  confinement, 
while  the  subdued  sound  of  scores  of  city  church  bells 
came  over  the  high  walls,  was  indescribably  maddening. 
One  of  the  convicts  near  me  tried  surreptitiously  to 
nudge  me,  and  ask  where  I  came  from,  whispering 
"I'm  fup'  for  five  for  burglary;  what's  your  term?" 
This  familiarity,  and  apparent  assumption  that  I  be- 
longed to  their  class,  etc.,  had  a  most  distressing  effect 
upon  me;  though  it  is  proper  to  remember  that  I  was 
in  the  weakest  and  most  debilitated  condition  physi- 
cally, scarcely  able  to  stand. 

On  entering  the  chapel,  I  found  it  already  nearly 
filled ;  a  broad  sea  of  shaved  heads  stretching  from  wall 
to  wall,  around  which  at  regular  intervals  of  ten  paces, 
sat  the  guard  and  overseers  on  high  revolving  stools 
that  permitted  them  to  overlook  each  and  every  prisoner 
on  the  benches.  On  each  side  of  the  pulpit  ran  a  six-feet 
platform,  painted  orange  color,  with  green  wicker  set- 
tees for  the  guests  of  the  Superintendent,  and  the  city 
visitors,  who  were  present.  The  chapel  surprised  me 
at  its  commodiousness  and  neat  appointments;  the 
benches  and  gallery  having  a  seating  capacity  of  1000 
persons,  or  more,  the  ceiling  lofty,  filling  the  mansard 
roof,  and  ventilated  by  three  large  rosette- wheels  in  the 
dome.  The  windows  were  high,  Gothic,  and  faced  with 
stained  wood  resembling  grained  oak;  the  walls  were 
grained  to  resemble  marble  masonry;  the  floors  were 
painted  a  dull  yellow,  or  lemon  color,  with  matting  near 
the  pulpit.  The  benches  were  narrow,  plain,  and  paint- 
ed a  dull  brown  to  hide  the  dirt  of  the  convicts'  clothes. 
Costly  gilt  chandeliers,  and  wall-brackets,  added  to  the 
appearance  of  the  chamber  but  were  of  no  particular 
benefit,  as  there  was  only  one  service.  The  pulpit  is  a 
plain  desk  with  large  crimson  cushion,  and  gilt  Bible. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  141 

On  the  right  of  the  platform  is  a  good  sized  cabinet  or- 
gan, which  a  neat  young  man  from  the  city  voluntarily 
manipulates  every  Sabbath.  He  is  the  son  of  the  master 
machinist  connected  with  the  institution,  but  in  no  wise 
resembles  his  phlegmatic  Dutch  father ;  his  face  is  beard- 
less, his  hands  small  and  white,  and  his  hair  being  parted 
in  the  middle,  gives  him  the  necessary  completeness  of 
a  woman  in  male  attire.  Still  he  is  a  good  performer, 
and  a  good  Christian,  active  in  good  works,  it  is  said. 
In  front  of  the  organ  are  half  a  dozen  benches,  for  "the 
choir."  These  are  convicts,  but  selected  because  of 
their  acquaintance  with  music,  to  lead  their  fellows  in  the 
sacred  service.  Their  leader,  an  old  Frenchman,  under 
twelve  years  sentence,  is  permitted  to  talk  to  them  (on 
the  single  subject  of  music)  and  train  them  for  half  an 
hour  in  the  chapel  after  service  on  Sabbath,  with  an 
officer  standing  guard.  The  musicians  are  allowed  an 
extra  ration  of  food  for  their  salaries.  In  the  gallery, 
behind  a  tall  front-screen,  which  barely  permits  them 
to  see  the  preacher,  and  the  backs  of  the  heads  of  some 
of  the  convicts  in  the  front  seats,  sit  the  female  felons, 
watched  as  closely  as  the  males,  and  dressed  in  loose 
checked  gingham  dresses,  or  uniforms,  all  alike.  They 
are  entirely  invisible  to  the  male  inmates,  and  but  for 
their  shrill  piping  voices,  and  incessant  hacking  coughs 
(suggestive  of  worn  out  frames,  sickness,  disease,  li- 
quor, vice,  and  exposure!)  we  should  not  have  known 
of  their  presence  within  the  chapel.  Nearly  half  an 
hour  is  occupied  in  marching  the  men  from  the  cells  to 
their  seats  in  chapel.  When  all  are  seated,  the  Supt. 
and  Deputy  Supt.  walk  slowly  up  the  two  aisles,  sur- 
veying each  row,  and  seeing  that  every  prisoner  sits 
mute,  motionless,  arms  folded,  head  bent,  eyes  on  the 
floor  I  If  a  man  whispers  to  his  fellow,  or  passes  a  note, 
or  snickers,  or  looks  around,  the  Deputy  taps  on  the 
floor  with  his  stick,  an  officer  steps  forward,  and  the 
offender  goes  down  to  the  dungeon,  far  below  us  all! 
Silence  now  rests  upon  all  this  large  assemblage  await- 
ing the  tardy  pastor.  Strange  sorrowful  spectacle! 
Almost  a  thousand  law-breakers,  offenders  against  the 
community,  outcasts  from  society,  under  the  ban,  and 


142  The   North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

under  lock  and  key,  are  here  assembled  to — actually! — 
Worship  God!  or,  as  one  of  the  vilest  of  them  once 
whispered,  to  "go  through  motions!"  No  such  collec- 
tions of  human  beings  could  be  found  anywhere  else. 
The  simple  [shape?]  of  the  heads  was  .  .  .[?]; 

old  grizzled  heads,  young  white-skinned  heads,  battered 
heads,  round  bullet-heads,  heads  that  seemed  to  belong 
to  animals  rather  than  man,  monkey  shaped,  dog  shaped, 
hog  shaped,  thick  bull  necks,  long  goose  necks ;  weazen- 
ed, foxy  visages,  low  foreheads,  carbuncled  noses,  weak 
watery  eyes,  pale  bilious-looking  skins;  sodden,  idiotic 
expressions,  keen,  vigilant,  watchful  eyes;  ugly  scars, 
small  pox  pitted  features — yea,  these  and  worse  were 
the  distinguishing  marks  of  that  rare  collection  of  de- 
formed, degraded,  debased  and  almost  demoniac  hu- 
manity! What  chapers  of  vice  and  crime  were  dis- 
played, in  the  plainest  of  print  upon  the  simple  head- 
pieces of  these  world's  waifs !  Yet  all  were  not  of  this 
class.  And  perhaps  the  most  affecting  sight  in  all  the 
throng,  were  the  youthful,  shapely  heads,  here  and  there 
amid  the  brutalized  majority,  of  convicts  whose  crime 
had  been  that  of  weakness  under  strong  temptation  or 
sudden  over  mastering  of  violent  passion,  or  ( in  a  small 
number  of  cases)  unjust  conviction  under  unexpected 
circumstances.  In  the  greater  number  of  such  instances, 
the  convict  was  taken  in  his  first  offense;  taken  per- 
haps because  too  honestly  clumsy  to  provide  for  his  own 
safety,  as  a  worse  man  would.  I  shall  allude  to  some 
of  these  unhappy  youths  hereafter.  At  present  they 
are  mingled  and  herded  with  the  gnarled  ruffian  multi- 
tude, and  it  is  hard  to  disassociate  them  from  the  rest. 
Imagine  the  thoughts  working  within  all  these  warped 
and  distorted  brains  during  the  utter  quietude  of  this 
waiting  moment  in  church.  Up  from  the  great  city, 
stretching  afar  to  the  eastward,  arose  the  clangor  of 
countless  church  bells,  pealing  the  hour  for  prayer,  and 
filling  the  morning  breeze,  as  it  drifted  in  between  the 
bars  of  the  great  windows,  with  an  indescribable  sweet- 
ness; especially  when  the  jangling  chimes  of  the  St. 
Peter's  Cathedral  mingled  with  the  ceasless  echoes  of 
the  deeper-toned  reverberations.     As  the  Chapel  is  on 


The  Shotwell  Papers  143 

the  topmost  story  of  the  Prison,  which  itself  overlooks 
the  city,  the  entire  volume  of  sound  came  freshly  to  us, 
and  must  have  awakened  Sabbath  Day  recollections  in 
every  heart  that  had  known  a  Christian  childhood.  To 
me  they  were  distressing.  There  were  particular  bells 
whose  echoes  were  surprisingly  familiar  to  me — bells 
that  I  had  not  heard  in  years,  but  whose  melody  now 
struck  pain  to  my  soul!  They  annihilated  time  and 
space;  rolled  back  the  years;  transformed  situations; 
and  seemed  to  show  me  the  streets  of  far-off  Southern 
towns  with  well-known,  friendly  forms,  winding  their 
way  to  their  accustomed  churches,  recognising  and  ac- 
costing each  other  pleasantly,  and  exhibiting  all  the 
elegancies  of  refinement  and  wealth.  How  great  the 
contrast!  Here,  in  felon's  garb,  with  folded  arms,  and 
downcast  eyes,  sat  the  listener,  pale,  nervous,  shivering, 
desolate,  smarting  under  a  sense  of  shameful  outrage 
and  injustice  done  in  forcing  him  into  so  shameful  a 
situation,  bleeding  at  heart,  from  a  bitter  knowledge  that 
many — very  many — of  those  who  should  be  his  friends 
were  quietly  accepting  the  slanders  of  his  foes;  and 
desponding  at  the  thought  of  all  the  similar  Sunday 
trials  that  must  ensue  during  the  six  years  yet  to  come ! 
I  may  never  tell  what  thoughts  coursed  through  my 
mind  at  that  hour.  It  was  perhaps  the  saddest  of  all 
my  prison  life.  I  fear  I  must  have  broken  down  had 
not  Genl.  Pilsbury  deliberately  arose  from  his  seat 
near  the  Pulpit,  and  walking  down  the  aisle  handed  me 
a  little  book  of  sacred  songs  used  by  the  choir.  Why 
he  did  this  very  unusual  thing  I  cannot  conjecture;  for 
a  similar  copy  was  habitually  kept  in  each  cell  for  the 
use  of  the  inmate.  Perhaps  he  read  my  feelings — being 
skilled  by  a  lifetime  of  watching  prisoners — and  kindly 
wished  to  turn  my  thoughts  by  this  little  act  of  attention, 
which  I  daresay  was  more  surprising  to  the  guards  than 
to  me. 

THE  PRISON  PREACHER 

After  five  minutes'  waiting,  the  organist  strikes  up 
a  rapid  voluntary,  and  the  Chaplain,  descending  through 
a  narrow  postern  opening  from  the  Superintendent's 
quarters  into  the  Chapel  trips  lightly  up  the  aisle,  shakes 


144  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

hands  with  Mr.  Pilsbury,  kneels  a  moment,  hops  up, 
pulls  off  his  gloves,  unrolls  his  sermon,  and  is  ready. 
Meanwhile  the  old  Frenchman  is  leading  his  choir 
through  well-known  stanzas,  "Sweet  Hour  of  Prayer !" 
Then  all  rise,  and  the  "Lord's  Prayer"  is  chanted — 
mainly  by  the  choir.  A  hymn  is  sung  from  the  small 
"Collection  of  Songs  for  Union  Sunday  Schools,"  a  copy 
of  which  is  kept  in  each  cell. 

Up  to  this  point,  the  convicts  all  keep  their  eyes 
lowered,  but  as  the  preacher  repeats  the  words  of  the 
text,  every  eye  is  raised  and  fixed  upon  him;  not  the 
least  deviation  to  left,  or  right,  or  aloft,  being  permitted, 
and  as  all  the  overseers,  and  guards,  are  "on  duty"  dur- 
ing chapel  hours,  the  slightest  infraction  of  the  rules 
brings  swift  detection. 

Strange  to  say,  this  rigidity  of  constrained  attention, 
in  my  mind  at  any  rate,  prevents  my  hearing  any  por- 
tion of  the  sermon.  With  my  eyes  fixed  upon  the  pul- 
pit cushion,  and  every  feature  utterly  mute,  I  could 
not  prevent  my  thoughts  from  wandering  many  many 
leagues,  o'er  land  and  sea,  while  the  preacher's  unmusi- 
cal voice,  rolled  through  my  ears  like  the  sound  of  a 
scarcely  audible  waterfall !  I  think,  too,  this  constraint 
had  its  effect  upon  the  singing.  The  two  hymns  in  the 
chapel  on  Sabbath,  were  the  only  sounds  any  convict 
was  permitted  to  make  except  occasionally  to  answer 
the  question  of  his  angry  keeper.  So  long  as  the  pris- 
oner obeyed  the  discipline  there  was,  in  many  instances, 
no  occasion  for  uttering  a  word  from  year's  end  to  end. 
But  all  were  allowed,  and  expected,  to  sing  on  Sabbath 
if  they  knew  how.  And  after  the  hour  of  rigid  silence, 
there  was  a  feeling  of  relief,  I  suppose,  ( I  cannot  speak 
of  experience)  in  loudly  joining  the  choir.  At  all  events 
it  was  surprising  to  hear  the  mighty  outburst  of  sound 
as  the  seven  or  eight  hundred  throats  rehearsed  the  old 
familiar  tunes  with  "Rock  of  Ages,"  "Jesus  Lover  of 
my  Soul,"  or  similar  sacred  airs.  Indeed,  the  convict 
"congregational  singing"  has  a  reputation  in  the  ex- 
terior world,  and  a  number  of  visitors  come  every  Sab- 
bath to  hear  it.  Many  of  the  negro  convicts  sing  as 
lustily  as  if  at  an  "old-field"  camp-meeting. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  145 

Perhaps  nothing  could  more  strongly  illustrate  the 
lasting  effect  or  impressions,  of  early  Christian  train- 
ing than  the  ease  and  gusto  with  which  these  rough,  har- 
dened, distorted,  utterly  degraded  habitues  of  the  slums, 
whom  we  may  suppose  have  not  seen  the  interior  of  a 
church  in  years,  now  recalled  both  the  words  and  tunes 
of  those  household  hymns,  which  almost  every  pious 
mother  croons  to  her  children,  and  which  they  remem- 
bered through  all  their  vicious  and  wandering  careers. 
It  was  a  queer  sight  to  see  some  of  these  old,  hoary- 
headed,  battered,  one-eyed,  broken-nosed  reprobates 
singing  without  the  book,  and  in  very  good  tune,  "Come, 
Sinner,  Come  all  Needy,  Weak  and  Wounded,  Sick 
and  SoreT  etc. 

I,  of  course,  did  not  sing,  nor  feel  any  disposition  so 
to  do.  There  was  enough  for  me  to  do  in  watching 
myself,  curbing  and  controlling  the  passionate  inclina- 
tion to  spring  up  and  behave  as  one  bereft  of  reason. 

BACK    INTO    CELLS 

The  sermon  over,  the  preacher  and  visitors  pass  out, 
the  officers  rise,  the  "deputy"  stands  on  the  platform, 
and  with  his  cane  strikes  two  taps  on  the  floor.  In- 
stantly the  two  front  benches  rise,  fold  their  arms,  and 
file  down  the  aisle,  down  the  long  winding  stairway  and 
back  into  their  cells.  Tap!  Tap!  two  more  benches  fol- 
low in  the  same  order.  Tap!  Tap!  Tap!  Tap!,  with 
each  tap  a  benchful  start;  thus  keeping  a  continuous 
string  of  men  until  all  are  back  in  their  cells.  Officers 
stand  at  intervals  along  the  line,  watching  that  all  shall 
go  promptly,  silently,  and  properly  to  their  cells ;  while 
each  man  stands  at  his  door,  holding  it  closed  until  the 
turnkey  comes  to  lock  it.  These  proceedings  occupy 
nearly  all  of  the  morning,  and  at  twelve  the  dinner  is 
brought.  It  consists  of  a  pan  of  rice  broth,  with  a  small 
piece  of  mutton,  and  a  slice  of  bread.  Then  there  is 
"rest"  until  3  P.  M.  when  the  prisoner  must  stand  at  his 
door  to  set  out  the  dinner  pan.  Once  more  at  5  P.  M., 
he  must  "hold  the  door"  while  it  is  unlocked  to  hand 
him  the  single  slice  of  bread  which  constitutes  his  only 
supper.     After  this,  he  can  undress  and  lie  down  with- 


146  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

out  keeping  one  ear  open  for  the  coming  of  the  turnkey. 
No  one  but  a  man  doomed  to  spend  years  in  a  cell  can 
imagine  the  degree  of  annoyance  and  discomfort  caused 
by  these  frequent  openings  of  the  cells ;  because  in  each 
instance  the  inmate  must  hop  up  and  stand  with  his  hand 
on  the  iron  bar  from  the  moment  he  hears  the  jingle  of 
the  keys,  and  thus  a  considerable  portion  of  his  leisure 
is  wasted.  It  is  invariably  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  I 
close  the  door  for  the  day — what  is  left  of  it — at  5  P.  M. 
on  Sundays,  and  go  to  bed  for  the  night. 

SAD  COGITATIONS 

On  the  first  Sabbath  evening  I  cannot  retire,  being  in 
ignorance  at  to  what  moment  I  may  be  called  up,  for 
some  new  annoyance ;  so  I  sit  on  the  side  of  the  shelf -like 
iron  bed,  and  wait,  praying  for  night!  The  sun  de- 
scending through  banks  of  mist  casts  a  reddish  haze 
through  the  great  windows  that  tinges  even  the  walls  of 
my  cell,  though  I  can  not  see  the  window;  nor  indeed, 
anything  except  the  blank  wall  across  the  ten-foot  wide 
corridor.  How  long  the  twilight  seems !  An  hour  ago 
the  shadows  began  to  deepen  within  the  narrow  cells; 
but  still  the  gas  is  unlighted  in  the  halls,  and  those  who 
can  see  the  window  may  perceive  a  faint  flush  on  the 
western  sky  that  reminds  them  of  Sunday  summer  eve- 
nings, long  ago,  when  the  family  gathered  on  the  vine 
trellised  verandah,  and  sang  together.  Suddenly  a 
distant  church  bell  in  the  city  rings  slowly  peal  on  peal, 
for  evening  service!  Others  join  in  the  mellow  chimes, 
which  are  softened  by  the  distance,  and  the  many  walls, 
and  windows  through  which  the  sound  comes  to  us! 
Oh!  the  melancholy  of  those  sunset  echoes!  It  strikes 
home  to  more  than  one  heart.  This  is  shown  by  the  spirit 
of  unrest  that  sweeps  over  the  Prison.  The  convicts  must 
be  mute,  noiseless,  voiceless ;  but  they  are  at  liberty  with- 
in their  cells.  So  all  this  great  hive  of  statutory  offend- 
ers starts  into  restless  rustling,  each  convict  pacing  the 
floor  of  his  cell!  Above,  beside,  all  around  me,  is  the 
sound  of  lonely  men  walking  to  and  fro — to  and  fro — to 
and  fro — backward,  forward — backward,  forward — 
backward,  forward — each  footfall  distinctly  heard  upon 


The  Shotwell  Papers  147 

the  smooth  flag-stones ;  while  the  shortness  of  the  walk- 
and-turn  (about  6  feet)  gives  one  the  idea  of  caged 
bears,  always  in  motion.  Alas!  the  occasional  sigh  or 
subdued  groan  reveals  that  these  wild  beasts  have  the 
feelings  of  men,  no  matter  how  dark  their  crimes. 

My  own  sorrowful  musings  on  that  slow-passing 
October  Sabbath  even  may  not  be  told.  Naturally  the 
newness  of  the  situation,  and  the  vividness  of  my  own 
sufferings  rendered  the  surroundings  intolerably  lonely 
and  oppressive.  I  knew  that  at  this  hour,  afar  in  the 
Southland,  my  friends  and  acquaintance  would  be  en- 
joying the  evening  air,  or  wending  their  way  to  church; 
and  I  knew  that  of  them  all  few  if  any  would  remember 
even  my  existence.  .  .  . 

THIRD   DAY!       GOING   TO   WORK 

About  8  A.  M.  on  Monday,  when  I  was  half  dozing, 
having  slept  scarcely  any  the  previous  night,  an  officer 
unlocked  my  cell  door,  saying  "Put  on  your  cap!  fold 
your  arms!  Eyes  on  the  floor!  Follow  me!"  In  the 
hall  I  found  my  seven  companions  from  Dixie  drawn  up 
in  line,  awaiting  their  assignment  to  "work."  The  poor 
fellows  looked  so  distressed  that  I  was  tempted  to  whis- 
per, to  the  nearest,  to  "keep  up  courage" ;  but  the  War- 
den, as  if  divining  my  intention,  said,  "keep  your  eyes 
down!"  in  a  curt  tone  of  command  that  made  me  tingle 
with  resentment.  At  the  next  moment,  however,  I  re- 
solved to  set  my  poor  comrades  an  example  of  patient 
"acquiescence  in  the  situation";  therefore,  quietly  took 
my  place  in  the  line  by  the  side  of  the  wall,  and  stood 
perfectly  motionless. 

Presently  the  man  termed  "the  Boss  of  the  Shops" 
made  his  appearance.  He  is  not  an  official  of  the  pri- 
son, but  is  the  manager,  and  supervisor,  of  the  shoe- 
making  business  conducted  within  the  Prison  yard  by 
the  "Eastern  New  York  Shoe  Company,"  to  which  cor- 
poration the  labors  of  the  convicts  are  hired  at  the  price 
of  forty  cents  a  day  per  able-bodied  prisoner.  The 
company  furnishes  the  steam  engine,  tools,  etc. ;  and  the 
skilled  workmen,  known  as  "Instructors,"  to  teach  the 
new-comers   (and  the  prisoners  are  daily  coming  and 


148  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

going)  how  to  make  their  several  portions  of  a  shoe. 
The  Penitentiary  authorities  furnish  the  overseers,  and 
guards;  and  of  course,  have  full  control  over  the  con- 
victs. 

"Boss" is  a  little,  dandyish  man;  quick  in  his 

motions  and  gesticulations;  full  of  self-conceit,  vain, 
petulant,  and  fussy,  the  fussiest  man  I  ever  knew.  He 
is  said  to  be  a  good  manager,  or  "driver"  but  his  inces- 
sant worrying,  and  irritableness  must  ruin  the  good  will 
of  all  his  men. 

He  came  bustling  in,  and  said,  "where  are  those  Ku 
Klux?  Oh!  here  you  are!  What  can  you  do?"  (then 
seeing  my  look  of  bewilderment,  he  continued)  "What 
is  your  trade?  What  do  you  follow?"  "My  profes- 
sion has  been  that  of  a  journalist,"  I  responded. 
"Have  you  ever  done  any  manual  labor?"  "No,  Sir! 
unless  you  count  some  days  work  at  fort-building  during 
the  war."  "Oh,  then  you  were  in  the  Rebellion!"  "I 
fought  for  the  South,  Sir,  and  so  did  every  other  man 
in  our  section  who  was  able,  and  of  any  account."  "Well, 
now  you  can  learn  to  make  shoes;  nice  trade  when  you 
get  used  to  it.  Shop  No.  4:  Trimmer,"  then  turning 
to  Collins,  "Well,  old  man,  what's  your  following?" 
And  thus  he  passed  down  the  line,  examining  each  of 
the  eight,  and  ticketing  him  for  some  class  of  work,  in 
one  or  other  of  the  four  shoe  shops.  Usually  the  as- 
signments are  made  according  to  length  of  sentence; 
convicts  likely  to  remain  three  years  or  more,  being  as- 
signed to  the  most  difficult  duties ;  while  those  who  come 
for  only  six  months  or  a  year,  are  put  at  the  light  work 
which  requires  no  special  training,  or  experience,  such 
as  "sand  papering"  blacking,  labeling,  etc.  Unfortu- 
nately for  me,  Sir  Fussybuss  (as  I  mentally  styled  the 
Boss)  prides  himself  on  his  skill  as  a  physiognomist, 
and  boasts  that  he  can  tell  at  a  glance  of  his  eye,  the 
capacity  of  a  new  comer,  and  whether  he  will  make  an 
apt  learner,  and  good  workman.  So  in  addition  to  my 
six  years'  sentence,  I  was  under  the  disadvantage  of 
looking  more  teachable  than  most  of  my  fellow  suffer- 
ers; consequently  he  ticketed  me  for  the  most  difficult, 
careful,  never-ending,  and   (to  me)    disagreeable  por- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  149 

tion  of  the  work;  viz,  to  cut,  trim,  plane,  and  neatly 
round  the  soles  of  ladies  fancy  gaiters — sixty  pairs 
per  day !  One  hundred  and  twenty  single  shoes !  Sir 
Fussy's  boasted  discernment  too,  was  more  woefully  at 
fault  in  assuming  that  I  could  learn  rapidly  the  delicate 
process,  for  of  all  capabilities  I  have  the  least  of  mechan- 
ical sort ;  so  little,  indeed,  that  I  cannot  this  day  whittle 
a  straight  edge  to  a  stick,  or  make  a  willow  whistle,  or 
point  a  quill  pen.  And  as  for  keeping  my  tools  sharp 
(as  is  absolutely  necessary  for  a  "Trimmer")  I  cannot 
strop  my  own  razor,  or  whet  a  Barlow-knife! 

However,  it  does  not  matter  in  the  least  what  I  think 
or  wish ;  my  own  opinions  are  no  more  to  be  considered 
than  are  those  of  the  fly  whose  severe  bite  furnishes  to 
Sir  Fussybus  an  excuse  to  rub  his  nose  with  his  big 
finger  ring  before  our  admiring  eyes  for  quite  sixty 
seconds. 

After  we  have  been  labeled  for  our  several  places  of 
toil,  the  "Boss"  darts  away,  and  a  different  inspection 
takes  place  as  we  stand  by  the  wall.  Old  General  Pils- 
bury,  the  Superintendent,  for  some  reason  takes  upon 
himself  to  come  down,  and  give  us  a  lecture,  a  thing 
unheard  of,  before.  Possibly  he  had  some  curiosity  to 
see  the  much  talked  of,  (more  abused!  and  slandered!) 
Ku  Klux ;  perhaps  he  wished  merely  to  impress  upon  us 
a  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  we  were  in  a  Penitentiary, 
on  the  footing  of  its  inmates. 

A   BORN   PRISON-KEEPER 

While  the  general  inspected  us,  I  inspected  him. 
Standing  before  us,  he  asked,  "Which  is  Shotwell?" 
The  Deputy  in  quite  another  tone  said,  "Step  forward 
Shotwell!"  I  did  so,  and  raising  my  eyes,  quietly  stood 
before  them  with  folded  arms,  and  an  assumption  of  all 
dignity  that  could  go  with  an  ill-fitting,  dirty,  prison 
garb,  and  the  condition  of  utter  submission  to  the  will 
and  pleasure  of  these  men  for  half  a  dozen  years  to  come. 

General  Pilsbury  unmistakeably  possessed  the  quality 
of  a  born  prison  keeper,  or,  let  us  say,  prison  manager 
as  distinctive  from  the  mere  jailor.  He  was  about  60 
years  of  age,  a  little  above  medium  size,  very  portly  and 
corpulent ;  with  an  aspect  of  singular  firmness  and  mild- 


150  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ness,  dignity  and  pomposity,  yet  suavity  and  consider- 
ateness,  sterness  and  severity  accompanied  by  nat- 
ural blandness  and  complacency.  It  was  the  face  of  an 
elderly  man,  of  strong  will,  who  for  forty  successive 
years,  had  ruled  with  absolute  arbitrary  power  over  a 
small  empire  of  desperate,  but  helpless,  men,  who  were 
worse  than  serfs,  because  the  serf  is  regarded  as  an 
hereditary  family  appanage  whereas  the  convict  slave 
is  held  only  by  bonds  and  gyves,  and  ceaseless  watching, 
and  is  stained  with  crime  and  suspected  of  treachery. 
But  it  was  also  the  face  of  a  man  of  Christian  character, 
and  humane  instincts,  who  had  learned  from  long  ex- 
perience and  study  of  human  nature  that  many  men 
whom  the  law  consigns  to  his  custody  are  more  sinned 
against  than  sinning — victims  of  circumstance,  inheri- 
tors of  vice,  ignorance,  and  crime,  trained  from  youth 
and  encouraged  by  the  facility  with  which  smarter,  and 
wealthier  offenders  violate  the  law,  and  escape  its  pen- 
alties. 

In  addressing  us  Genl.  Pilsbury  spoke  in  a  low,  easy 
tone,  but  with  all  the  absoluteness  of  an  autocrat,  whose 
nod  is  Destiny  to  his  subjects;  an  arbitrary  dictation 
that  made  me  chafe  almost  to  the  insanity  of  open  re- 
bellion, while  he  was  slowly  haranguing  us  as  follows : — 

ONLY    DO    AS    I    SAY AND    BE    HAPPY 

"Now,  men,  you  are  to  be  taken  to  the  Shops  to  do  the 
work  that  will  be  assigned  to  you.  You  will  find  the 
shops  much  pleasanter  than  staying  in  your  cells,  be- 
cause you  will  have  work  to  do,  and  it  will  keep  you 
busy!  (coughs)  Everybody  gets  along  smoothly  if 
they  obey  the  Rules,  but  if  they  don't  there  is  serious 
trouble  till  they  do.  Now,  go  to  your  shops,  and  re- 
member— the  Rules!" 

All  this  was  said  in  the  bland  tone  of  one  stating  a 
cheerful  piece  of  instruction  to  his  slaves  in  the  old 
days,  as  if  the  considerate  master  addressed  them:  "Now 
men,  go  and  pile  rock  all  night ;  it  is  not  pleasant ;  in  fact 
it  is  very  hard  service  so  hard  that  I  am  sorry — but 
you've  got  it  to  do!  Go  and  do  it  faithfully  and  ac- 
cording to  instructions,  and  all  will  be  right." 

I  think  the  old  General  meant  his  remarks  for  kind- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  151 

ness;  but  his  forty  years  of  autocratic  rule  over  men, 
his  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  the  bank,  and  his 
wide  reputation  as  the  only  successful,  and  money-mak- 
ing Penitentiary  manager  in  America,  all  seemed  to  be 
represented  in  his  dictatorial  expressions. 

TRAINED  IN  THE  LOCK-STEP;  SYMPATHIES 

And  now  we  were  formed  in  line,  single  file,  each  man 
with  hand  on  his  predecessor,  as  heretofore  described, 
and  were  marched  up  and  down  the  hall  way  to  train 
us  to  this  method  of  marching.  I  caught  it  easily 
enough,  but  old  Mr.  Collins,  and  one  or  two  of  the  others 
were  slow  and  clumsy;  throwing  the  whole  line  out  by 
their  mis-steps;  whereupon  the  Warden  roughly  re- 
proved them.  I  was  ready  to  cry  with  rage  and  indig- 
nation. Indeed  I  from  our  first  arrival  had  felt  the 
sincerest  pity  for  my  unfortunate  companions,  because  I 
knew  they  were  uneducated,  unaccustomed  to  isolation, 
or  mental  communings;  in  short  were  without  any  re- 
sources of  intellect  to  solace  their  weary  prison  hours, 
and  without  intelligent  friends  to  correspond  with,  and 
keep  them  cheered  and  comforted.  Alas!  as  it  came 
to  pass,  they  received  half  a  dozen  letters  apiece  for 
each  one  of  mine!  I  reflected,  moreover  that  most  of 
them  had  wives,  mothers,  sisters,  families  either  of  their 
own,  or  of  their  father's  homes,  whereas  I  was  not  only 
without  wife  or  child,  mother  or  sister,  but  also,  lacking 
even  a  sweetheart.  Per  Contra,  also,  they  had  an  ad- 
vantage in  caring  nothing  for  books,  papers,  writing 
material,  toilet  articles,  and  an  hundred  other  minor 
luxuries,  whose  deprivation  was  almost  too  grievous  to 
be  borne,  by  one  accustomed  to  them.  I  think,  too,  they 
cared  less  for  the  confinement  than  I;  being  less  har- 
assed mentally,  and  not  so  much  mortified  at  the  treat- 
ment we  so  often  received  from  coarse  and  bullying 
officials.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  education  and 
gentle  rearing  add  greatly  to  the  griefs,  and  sufferings 
of  those  who  are  called  upon  to  suffer,  and  to  endure  ill- 
usage.  Barrels  of  ink,  and  many  (paper)  tears,  were 
wasted  by  sentimental  people  the  world  over,  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  "miseries,"  the  "crushed  lives,"  and 
"gasping  anguish,"  so-called,  of  the  Southern  slaves, 


152  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

when  in  point  of  fact,  forty-nine  out  of  fifty  of  the 
latter  were  more  jolly,  light-hearted,  and  happy  than 
their  own  masters  and  mistresses.  This  is  proven  by 
the  further  fact  that  since  the  war  thousands  of  ex- 
slaves  preferred  to  remain  with  their  former  "cruel  mas- 
ters," and  would  fight  for  them  and  are  proud  to  bear 
their  family  names!  Who  ever  heard  a  negro  com- 
plain of  ill-treatment  while  a  slave?  Who  does  not 
know  that  if  the  slaves  had  been  "mal-treated"  and 
"outraged,"  as  the  Abolitionists  succeeded  in  making 
the  whole  world  believe  they  were,  the  South  would  have 
been  filled  bv  assassinations,  retaliations  and  horrible 
acts  of  revenge,  when  in  1865-6-7-8-9-'70  and  '72  the 
freedmen  were  not  only  in  political  supremacy,  in  many 
states  both  as  a  race,  and  as  a  party,  but  were  con- 
tinually incited  and  inflamed  by  vile  carpet-baggers,  to 
attack,  rob,  and  outrage  their  former  masters  and  mis- 
tresses. The  truth  was,  the  Freedmen  knew  they  had 
been  well  treated  and  their  simple  minds  often  hungered 
for  the  "flesh  pots  of  Egypt" — the  freedom  from  care, 
or  want,  or  any  other  necessities  of  free-life. 

Capt.  Pilsbury  (as  will  hereafter  appear)  once  re- 
marked that  he  would  rather  have  fifty  burglars,  mur- 
derers, etc.,  sent  to  the  Penitentiary  than  one  genteely 
reared  and  educated  person ;  for  it  was  painful  to  see  the 
latter  crushed,  and  sorely  tried  under  punishment 
that  the  more  brutish  and  common  culprits  accepted 
without  a  thought  and  perhaps  found  no  more  confin- 
ing and  arduous  than  their  daily  work. 

SHOP   NUMBER   4 

"Sir  Fussybus"  having  assigned  me  to  Shoe-Shop, 
No.  4,  I  was  escorted  thither,  and  made  to  stand  for 
several  hours  at  one  end  of  the  room  close  to  the  wall, 
with  my  arms  folded,  and  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  wall. 
Behind  me  for  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
stretched  a  large  room  containing  four  "divisions,"  or 
shoe-making  gangs.  I  could  not,  as  yet,  see  what  was 
going  on;  but  there  was  a  mighty  rumbling  of  machin- 
ery, buzzing  of  wheels,  and  ceasless  thumping  of  ham- 
mers, and  all  the  clatter  of  150  workmen  busily  plying 
their  tools.     It  was  a  strange,  almost  incredible,  thing 


The  Shotwell  Papers  153 

that  among  all  these  noises, — in  all  this  scene  of  busy 
toil — -not  the  sound  of  a  single  human  voice  could  be 
heard;  the  whirl  of  the  human  machinery  was  muffled 
and  mute!  Not  one  of  those  one  hundred  and  fifty 
workmen  dare  to  speak,  or  laugh,  or  sing,  or  whistle, 
or  look  about,  or  glance  at  his  fellows,  or  even  raise  his 
eyes  from  his  work!  Yea,  he  must  not  even  move  his 
lips,  lest  the  overseer's  eye  accuse  him  of  muttering,  or 
whispering  to  his  neighbor!  No,  not  even  go  for  a 
drink  of  water  (at  the  bucket,  directly  under  the  over- 
seer's nose)  without  raising  one  hand,  like  boys  in  a 
country  school,  until  the  permission  is  granted.  Dur- 
ing all  the  long  days,  (days  without  a  single  variation 
in  dozens  of  years,  or  a  moments  relaxation)  each,  and 
every  one,  of  all  this  toiling  company  has  not  opened  his 
lips  to  speak,  has  not  conveyed  an  idea,  nor  received  one ! 
Could  the  power  of  penal  training  further  go?.  .  .* 

This  writer  merely  recorded  the  effect  produced  on  his 
mind  by  a  passing  observation  of  the  men  at  work:  he 
had  little  conception  of  the  reality;  nor  can  any  one 
have,  who  is  not  doomed  to  remain  years  on  years,  un- 
der this  surveillance.  A  single  day,  or  a  week,  or  even 
a  month,  might  be  borne  with  some  equanimity,  because 
of  the  supporting  consciousness  that  it  was  a  mere  ex- 
periment soon  to  be  over!  Alas  how  different  to  him, 
as  I,  who  foresee  six  years,  six  times  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  days,  to  be  passed  in  the  vice-like  grip  of  this 
fearful  system !  No  wonder  the  old  offenders  who  have 
been  in  nearly  every  State's  prison  in  the  land  often 
beg  the  Judges  to  give  them  ten  years  in  Sing- Sing,  or 
Blackwell's  Island,  rather  than  three  in  Albany  Peni- 
tentiary ! 

The  workshops  are,  as  I  have  said,  long  apart- 
ments, about  30  feet  wide,  with  a  double  row  of  windows 
on  the  side  open  looking  into  the  Prison  yard,  and  only 
a  blank  wall  on  the  other  side.  Each  shop  is  entered  at 
the  end  and  has  a  six-foot  aisle  running  its  full  length. 
On  both  sides  of  this  central  aisle  are  the  work  benches, 
arranged  in  the  same  order  as  the  pews  in  a  church,  or 
the  desks  in  a  school-room;  except  that  there  are  no 

1  Another  extract  from  the  article  in  Appleton's  is  omitted. 


154  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

seats,  and  the  space  between  the  benches  is  just  wide 
enough  for  four  men  to  stand  and  work.  The  benches 
are  about  as  high  and  as  wide  as  a  store-"counter,"  or 
say  three  feet  high,  and  2  feet  wide.  Each  has  its  top 
divided  into  four  square  sections,  in  the  middle  of  each 
of  which  is  an  oblong  block,  six  inches  tall  with  its 
centre  cut  out  leaving  an  horse-shoe  shaped  notch,  or 
cavity,  for  holding  the  shoe  while  the  workman  manipu- 
lates it.  There  are  also  quite  a  number  of  machines,  for 
various  purposes,  such  as  cutting  the  heel-taps  after 
they  are  put  on;  punching  holes,  putting  in  eyelets, 
besides  a  great  many  wheels  for  polishing,  etc.,  all  of 
which  are  driven  by  a  powerful  engine  in  one  corner  of 
the  yard. 

PUT  AT  WORK,,  TRIMMING  SHOES 

The  overseer  beckons  to  me  to  follow  him,  points  to  an 
empty  space  at  one  of  the  benches,  directly  in  front  of 
his  desk,  whereat  two  negroes  and  a  filthy  looking  white 
man  are  working.  "Take  off  your  jacket,"  he  growls. 
"Hang  your  jacket  and  cap,  on  the  nail  under  your 
bench,  roll  up  your  sleeves,  fold  your  arms,  and  stand 
until  the  Instructor  gives  you  your  work!  Put  down 
your  eyes!"  (this  in  the  shortest  of  tones,  because  I  was 
looking  him  in  the  eye  as  he  spoke)  "Understand,  that 
you  are  to  keep  your  eyes  down  right  on  this  bench,  on 
your  work!  You  are  not  to  look  about,  nor  talk,  nor 
have  any  communication  with  these  men !  You've  noth- 
ing to  do  with  them  nor  they  with  you,  understand  that ! 
You  are  to  obey  the  Rules,  mind  you  do  it!     You — " 

But  what  "you"  was  next  to  hear  is  forever  lost  be- 
cause at  that  instant  the  overseer's  cat-like  watchfulness 
caught  some  piece  of  trickery  across  the  room,  and  I 
was  not  yet  sufficiently  "disciplined"  to  prevent  my 
looking  after  him  as  he  seized  the  offender,  and  roughly 
hustled  him  against  the  wall,  choked  him  an  instant, 
then  dragged  him  by  the  collar,  out  into  the  aisle,  and  up 
to  his  own  desk,  there  to  await  transfer  to  the  dungeon ! 
This  sight  of  this  rough  usage  threw  me  into  a  perspira- 
tion, of  agony;  for  I  reflected,  "if  this  is  common,  and 
all  the  prisoners  are  thus  treated  I  shall  never  leave 
these  prison  walls,  I  shall  certainly  kill  that  fellow  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  155 

moment  he  takes  me  by  the  collar  or  strikes  me,  and 
then  I  will  never  be  released!  Happily  I  learned  ere 
long  that  it  was  not  common  for  the  overseer  to  strike 
the  prisoners,  except  in  the  case  of  certain  negroes  and 
incorrigible  rascals  whose  conduct  was  utterly  exhaust- 
ing to  human  patience.  One  or  two  of  the  overseers 
were  very  rough  with  the  men,  but  the  usual  course  was 
to  scold  and  browbeat  in  the  most  aggravating  manner 
for  slight  offences,  and  report  to  the  "Deputy"  in  more 
serious  derelictions. 

Whether  it  was  designedly  or  not  that  I  was  placed 
by  the  side  of  a  filthy,  lousy  negro,  sentenced  for  house- 
breaking, I  cannot  say;  at  the  time  I  believed  it  a  de- 
liberate attempt  to  annoy  and  humiliate  me:  but  possi- 
bly my  feelings  were  unduly  wrought  up  by  all  the 
petty  persecutions  put  upon  me.  Certain  it  was  that 
I  was  given  the  most  arduous,  and  unceasing  labor  in 
the  shops,  and  was  located  between  this  black  burglar, 
and  a  Canadian  scavenger  little  less  slovenly  and  dis- 
gusting than  the  negro;  while  several  other  stinking 
blackguards  ( I  apologize  for  the  language,  though  noth- 
ing less  strong  would  express  the  truth)  were  in  front 
and  rear  of  me  within  touch  of  my  arm,  had  I  dared 
extend  it!  Oh!  the  horror  of  the  thought  that  for  six 
years  I  must  be  herded,  ranked,  classed  (in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  Prison  officials,  if  not  of  other  people)  on 
a  footing  with  all  this  vile  assemblage  of  murderers, 
ravishers,  burglars,  thieves,  vagabonds,  and  every  spe- 
cies of  social  and  legal  outcast;  think  of  it!  I  do  not 
wonder  that  there  are  three  or  four  lunatics  in  the  hospi- 
tal continually;  though  at  the  end  of  three  months,  the 
patient  is  sent  to  an  asylum.  The  number  is  kept  up  by 
continually  recurring  cases. 

As  I  have  already  stated  the  convicts  are  hired  to  the 
"Eastern  New  York  Shoe  Company,"  to  manufacture 
ladies'  and  children's  shoes.  There  are  some  forty,  or 
fifty,  "short-term"  men,  (sentenced  for  30,  60,  or  90 
days,  and  men  too  badly  crippled  to  make  shoes,  who 
work  in  the  "chair-shops,"  cane-seating  chairs  for  anoth- 
er company.  But  the  large  majority  are  employed  by 
the  shoe  company  which  furnishes  the  material,  tools, 


156  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  skilled  workmen,  called  "Instructors"  to  teach  the 
new-coming  convicts  how  to  work.  The  working  hours 
are  from  dawn  till  sunset,  except  an  hour  at  noon,  for 
dinner.  In  the  long  days  of  midsummer,  the  convicts 
work  five  hours  before  dinner,  and  five  afterwards.  Let 
any  one  try  the  experiment  of  standing  in  one  spot,  with 
downcast  eyes,  neither  saying,  seeing,  or  hearing  any- 
thing to  entertain  his  thoughts,  let  him  try  this  for  a 
single  one  of  the  long,  sultry,  summer  days — and  record 
his  feelings! 

Presently  the  "Instructor"  came  to  set  me  at  work. 
He  was  a  small  size,  dark-skinned  English  Crispin, 
wearing  sickly  side-whiskers,  smutches  of  grease  paint 
over  his  face,  a  very  greasy  apron,  covered  with  lamp- 
blacking  stains,  and  a  pitiable  hacking  cough  that  quite 
won  my  sympathy,  as  it  showed  he  needed  nursing 
rather  than  twelve  and  thirteen  hours'  work,  in  this 
dusky  shop.  He  subsequently  informed  me  that  he  was 
almost  at  death's  door,  and  needed  to  go  South,  or  some- 
where else  than  this  crowded,  fetid  shop,  whose  at- 
mosphere being  filled  with  minute  particles  of  leather- 
dust,  was  particularly  distressing  to  his  throat  and  lungs, 
but  "Need's  must  when  the  Devil  drives,"  he  said  sadly, 
"and  wife  is  sick,  I  have  no  support  but  this,  and  so  I 
must  go  on  for  a  while,  though  I  am  mighty  tired  of 
coming  here  before  day,  and  leaving  after  midnight, 
sometimes."  It  was  in  the  winter- time  when  he  told 
me  this,  (whispering  one  day  while  pretending  to  show 
me  how  to  round  the  toes  of  a  new  style  of  shoes;  and 
after  he  had  gotten  the  idea  that  I  would  be  released 
soon,  and  might  help  him  to  come  South) .  He  seemed 
to  take  an  interest  in  me  from  the  start,  or  say  after  the 
first  few  weeks,  when  he  learned  that  I  was  (Csent  up" 
(in  Penitentiary  parlance)  for  "Ku  Kluxing,"  and  not 
for  throat-cutting,  house-burning,  or  similar  "mild  man- 
nered" offences! 

He  instructed  me  that  my  "work"  was  to  "trim"  the 
soles  of  the  ladies'  kid  gaiters.  Taking  up  one  of  a 
great  pile  on  the  bench  before  me  that  the  "Last"  (block 
of  wood  shaped  like  a  foot)  was  still  in  the  shoe,  and 
though  the  "sole"  was  sewed  on,  it  was  still  rough,  con- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  157 

siderably  larger  than  the  bottom  of  the  shoe,  and  was 
without  proper  shape  at  the  "toe"  and  in  the  neat  curves 
of  the  "shank."  The  sole  as  it  stood  was  a  mere  rough, 
oblong  piece  of  leather  sewed  upon  the  bottom  of  the 
shoe.  My  task  was  to  use  a  very  sharp  knife,  of  pecu- 
liar shape,  in  cutting  down  this  sole  to  about  the  size  of 
the  shoe-bottom.  Then,  use  a  narrow  plane,  just  the 
width  of  the  thick  sole,  and  smooth  the  edges  of  the 
sole  all  around  so  that  they  can  be  waxed,  and  black- 
ened, as  are  all  new  shoe  soles  on  the  edges.  Then,  use 
another  implement  to  "cut  out  the  welt."  Then,  use 
another  kind  of  knife  to  cut  out  neatly  the  beveled 
curves  on  each  side  of  the  "shank"  or  "instep"  sole. 
Then  cut  down  the  perpendicular  (inside)  of  the  high 
heel.  Then,  wipe  off  the  shoe,  and  pass  it  to  the  next 
man  to  have  the  bottom  sand  papered  then  to  another 
man  to  have  the  edges  waxed  and  blacked,  etc.  It  is 
conceded,  I  believe,  that  this  "trimming"  is  one  of  the 
most  difficult  and  laborious  parts  of  the  manufacture 
of  shoes,  if  it  be  not  the  most!  And  when  I  state  that 
our  "task"  was  sixty  pairs, — one  hundred  and  twenty 
shoes — per  day,  the  "hard  labor"  is  apparent.  It  is, 
also,  a  work  demanding  the  closest,  and  undeviating  at- 
tention. The  slip  of  the  keen  blade  only  1-6  of  an  inch 
means  distruction  for  the  soft,  pliable  kid,  which  under 
the  extension  of  the  last,  seems  to  open  and  tear  at  the 
very  breath  of  the  knife !  Of  this  fact  I  received  pain- 
ful knowledge  within  a  few  hours  after  I  began.  My 
clumsy  attempts  at  shoe-making,  my  sick,  nervous,  and 
unhinged  condition  of  Saturday  and  Sunday  was  scarce- 
ly improved  on  Monday  and  even  before  I  took  my 
first  shoe  in  hand,  I  foresaw  that  I  should  bungle  the 
work,  if  I  did  not  utterly  ruin  it.  Perhaps  there  is  no 
man  living  who  has  less  mechanical  genius,  or  readiness 
in  handling  mechanical  implements  than  I,  and  certainly 
no  one  has  so  little  aptitude  in  learning  how  to  do  so. 
Much  of  this  is  due  to  early  training.  I  was  reared 
with  an  older  brother  who  attended  to  everything  of  a 
constructive  character  for  me ;  besides  I  had  no  occasion 
for  acquiring  mechanical  knowledge.  It  happened, 
therefore,  that  I  was  the  poorest  possible  of  persons  to 


158  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

assign  to  the  "trimming  block,"  which  requires  a  ready 
turn  for  handling  edged  tools,  rapidity  in  sharpening 
them,  a  firm  wrist,  steady  muscles  (able  to  shove  and 
draw  without  wavering  the  slightest)  and  a  quick,  cor- 
rect, comparative  eye,  able  to  take  the  measurement 
of  a  tenth  part  of  an  inch,  and  to  shape  the  curves  of 
half-a-dozen  different  sizes  of  shoes,  and  finish  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  of  them  every  ten  hours !  The  conse- 
quences were  as  might  have  been  expected!  My  knife 
was  dull,  my  nerves  unsteady,  my  hands  awkward! 
As  the  long  day  wore  off,  I  foresaw  a  scolding  for  I 
had  "mangled"  (so  the  Overseer  said)  only  five  shoes! 
The  Instructor  looked  worried,  and  finally  said,  "You 
must  try  to  get  on  faster  than  this,"  then  turning  to  the 
Overseer,  he  said  "This  man  don't  know  a  thing  about 
tools.  My  team  never  will  catch  up  with  such  slow 
draggers!"  The  overseer  came  just  opposite  me  and 
growled  at  me  until  my  face  flamed  hot  as  fire,  and 
perspiration  dripped  from  my  forehead,  partly  due  to 
mortification  over  my  own  awkwardness  and  tremul- 
ousness  and  partly  to  the  fierce  resentment  that  half 
choked  me  as  the  low-born  fellow  lectured  me,  "See 
here!  you  want"  (Yankee  brogue — meaning  you  ought, 
or  must ! )  "You  want  to  do  better  than  this  here !  I  aint 
going  for  to  have  you  loafin'  round  mangl'n  shoes,  this 
here  way!  You've  got  to  do  better 'n  this,  tomorrow. 
You  want  to  pay  attention  to  your  work,  and  walk  it 
right  a-long!     Not  stand'n  here  foolin'!"  etc.,  etc. 

The  effect  of  this  "talking  to,"  by  a  man  whom  I 
know  to  be  physically  my  master,  although  one  whom 
I  should  not  think  of  recognizing  socially,  or  intellectu- 
ally, in  any  way,  can  scarcely  be  imagined  by  the  casual 
reader ;  because  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive  of  the  torturing 
situation,  in  which  I  was  placed.  As  I  write  these 
lines — even  mine  own  self — can  hardly  comprehend  the 
deep  dejection  and  bitterness  of  the  notes  I  made  in  my 
secret  journal — more  than  a  month  after  this  first  day's 
essay  at  "hard  labor."  Thus  strangely  doth  circum- 
stance affect  one's  judgment  and  feelings! 

Possibly  the  harshness  of  my  first  day's  experience 
"in  the  shops,"  was  beneficial  in  the  general  result.     It 


The  Shotwell  Papers  159 

dispelled  every  lingering  hope,  foolishly  cherished  in  the 
recesses  of  my  heart,  that  I  should  be  treated  as  a  politi- 
cal, rather  than  a  felonious  inmate,  or  receive  any  special 
consideration  from  the  authorities.  Several  persons  had 
intimated  previously  to  my  arrival,  that  I  would  cer- 
tainly be  treated  kindly,  and  given  some  lighter  employ- 
ment than  the  general  herd,  and,  while  I  invariably  de- 
clared it  was  silly  to  suppose  any  such  consideration 
would  be  shown  me,  I  must  have  hoped  they  were  right. 
For  it  was  a  severe  realization  to  find  myself  actually 
posted  among  a  knot  of  filthy  negroes,  and  set  at  work 
upon  the  footing  of  the  vilest  of  them !  But  it  is  always 
well  to  get  rid  of  all  self-delusions  in  such  a  case.  I 
now  more  clearly  realized  the  seriousness  of  my  situa- 
tion, and  how  serious  would  be  the  strain  upon  my  mind 
and  character. 

SORROWFUL  RESOLUTIONS 

It  was  a  very  gloomy  evening  this  Monday  evening, 
as  I  was  the  third  time  locked  in  Cell  Number  Nine  for 
the  night.  The  hour  was  sunset,  but  hazy  clouds  ob- 
scured all  save  an  half-disk  of  blood-red  like  Indian 
Summer  at  the  South.  The  effect  of  this  ruddy  glow 
outside  was  to  render  more  than  usually  sombre  the 
windowless  interior  of  my  cell,  which  was  below  the  line 
of  the  windows  across  the  corridors.  I  am  very  sus- 
ceptible to  atmospheric  influences,  and  for  years  have  not 
enjoyed  the  sunset  hours.  Need  I  speak  of  this  one? 
The  prison  supper,  a  single  pan  of  boiled  corn  meal, 
without  butter  or  sweetening,  was  by  the  side  of  the 
door;  but  I  was  too  weary  to  eat  such  stuff,  notwith- 
standing that  I  was  hungry  having  scarcely  touched 
either  breakfast,  or  dinner.  I  preferred  to  rest.  Pull- 
ing out  the  iron  shelf -rack  which  answered  for  both  bed 
and  seat,  I  took  my  Bible,  and  with  a  pin  made  certain 
shorthand,  or  stenographic,  signs  to  record  these  reso- 
lutions, which  I  determined  to  carry  out; 

1st.  To  "Obey  the  Rules,"  so  closely  that  none  but 
a  devilish  delight  in  torturing  by  my  captors,  should 
cause  me  abuse,  and  hectoring:  to  make  myself  deaf, 


160  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

dumb,  and  blind  when  out  of  my  cell,  and  to  seek  to 
force  [?]  every  possible  occasion  for  being  spoken  to, 
even  by  the  overseers  and  guards  since  the  very  tone  of 
voice  in  mere  mention  of  some  duty  made  me  wretched. 

2nd.  To  endeavor  to  maintain  my  physical  health 
by  careful  attention  to  cleanliness  of  person  and  cell,  (so 
far  as  possible)  and  by  as  much  cheerfulness  as  at  all 
possible,  ever  remembering  that  the  lack  of  these  two 
characteristics — or  habits — have  wrecked  more  lives 
among  prisoners  than  all  other  causes  combined. 

3rd.  To  hold  myself  superior  to  my  situation ;  always 
superior  to  those  surrounding  me,  officers  and  convicts 
alike;  never  forgetting  that  malice,  not  crime,  sent  me 
here,  and  that  my  keepers  cannot  make  me  that  which 
I  am  not;  always  superior  to  circumstances,  free  and 
uncontaminated,  though  shackled,  and  watched,  and 
herded  with  the  off-scourings  of  the  Earth;  always  re- 
membering that  while  my  enemies  have  the  power  to 
call  me  a  "Penitentiary  Convict"  and  force  me  to  drudge 
for  years  in  ignominious  servitude,  they  cannot  attaint 
my  character,  my  soul,  my  gentility,  if  I  say  nay ! 

4th.  To  watch  myself  as  closely  as  the  overseer 
watches  my  body,  lest  my  character  and  disposition  be 
warped,  and  distorted  to  utter  ruin  by  the  fearful  or- 
deal through  which  I  am  passing.  1st.  "I  must  not  give 
way  to  fits  of  anger,  nor  worry  over  the  slights  and  an- 
noyances with  which  I  am  surrounded.  (N.  B.  to  ask 
the  Deputy  if  he  will  not  give  me  cover,  and  more  com- 
fortable suit,  for  this  one  is  too  bad!)  2nd.  I  must  not 
give  way  to  useless  repinings  and  heart  burnings;  I 
have  often  been  silly,  have  made  mistakes,  and  some- 
times acted  shamefully;  but  who  has  not?  Wisdom  is 
a  plant  of  late  growth  in  man's  life ;  and  if  I  have  acted 
unwisely  in  the  past  there  is  the  greater  need  to  avoid 
foolish  regrets  now,  when  I  need  cheerfulness  above  all 
else  save  moral  strength.  3rd.  To  drive  from  my  mind, 
and  lock  the  door  against  their  return,  all  the  revengeful 
and  embittered  thoughts  that  arise  in  troops — aye,  le- 
gions ! — at  every  recollection  of  the  foul  wrong,  outrage, 
and  insult,  heaped  upon  me  during  these  four  months 
past!     This  is  one  of  the  greatest  perils  I  have  before 


The  Shotwell  Papers  161 

me.  Assuredly  if  I  allow  myself  to  brood  over  all  the 
events  of  the  past  month  even — Oh !  name  them  not ! — I 
shall  go  from  these  walls,  a  gibbering  lunatic !  I  shud- 
der as  I  think  of  the  faces  of  many  of  my  fellow-prison- 
ers!* Yet  how  much  more  have  I  to  apprehend  than 
these  rude,  low-born  wretches,  many  of  whom  are  as 
well  situated  here  as  outside  except  in  liberty!  Alas! 
even  as  I  resolve  my  thoughts  rush  on  in  wild  resent- 
ment !     But  it  must  be  done !     Else  all  will  be  lost. 

5th.  I  must  seek  to  strengthen  my  mental  and  intel- 
lectual powers.  This  will  be  hard;  for  I  have  neither 
leisure,  nor  books  for  study.  But  I  can  take  a  daily 
task  of  memorization  of  the  chapters  in  the  Bible,  and 
also  the  hymns ;  and  can  study  the  construction  of  sen- 
tences in  the  book  I  get  on  Sunday,  and  which  I  shall 
endeavor  to  get  permission  to  select  from  the  tray  when 
it  is  brought  around.  Oh!  for  the  poor  boon  of  plenty 
of  reading  material,  how  many  other  comforts  would 
I  forego.  Thank  God!  the  shackling  of  the  body  can- 
not cripple  the  soul.  Yet  how  sadly  are  the  mind  and 
soul  affected  by  the  sufferings  and  persecutions  which 
afflict  the  person!  How  hard  it  is  for  me  to  forget 
where  I  am;  or  divert  my  thoughts  from  all  that  I  have 
undergone!  And  I  dread  the  monotony  of  labor — the 
daily  undeviating  round  of  drudgery — with  nothing  to 
suggest  new  thought,  and  obliterate  the  vivid  recollec- 
tions of — But  this  will  never,  never  do !" 

MAKING  SHOES 

In  accordance  with  my  resolve  to  avoid  all  "cause  of 
offence"  (and  other  accompanying  brow-beating,  from 
the  overseers)  I  labored  daily  with  great  diligence,  and 
an  earnest  effort  to  master  the  art  of  trimming  shoe  soles. 
My  assiduity,  indeed,  provoked  the  rascal  who  worked 
at  my  elbow,  who  watched  his  chance,  and  whispered, 
"Don't  be  a  fool  and  learn  before  you  want  to;  I  was 
six  months    learning"     On  another  occasion,  he  whis- 


*The  writer  in  Appleton's  Journal  alluding  to  this  feature  of  convict  life,  says, 
"There  is  no  melancholy  so  impressive  as  that  of  a  convict.  There  are  no  faces, 
that  so  fix  themselves  in  the  memory  as  the  faces  of  some  that  may  be  seen  in 
these  gatherings  of  the  worst  and  lowest  of  mankind.  The  principal  reason  is 
that  they  are  bare  and  shaven.  They  have  been  robbed  of  their  veils  of  hair 
that  have  kept  so  many  secrets  of  the  physiognomy  and  their  tell  tale  lips  stand 
revealed." 


162  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

pered,  "Go  slow!  They'll  pile  on  the  work  just  as  fast 
as  you  learn!"  I  paid  no  attention  either  to  his  whisper- 
ing, or  his  advice;  being  determined  not  to  be  led  into 
any  infractions  of  the  rules,  though,  had  I  been  willing 
to  "put  up  with"  frequent  scoldings  and  abuse  for  little 
work,  I  should  have  taken  much  more  time  in  learning 
since  as  he  said  the  amount  put  upon  me  increased  with 
my  skill.  If  it  be  wondered  how  the  Canadian  could 
speak  unobserved  it  must  be  remembered  that  almost 
every  hour  the  overseer  caught  some  fellow  talking,  or 
trying  to  pass  a  note  to  his  neighbor,  and  as  he  (the 
overseer)  darted  to  capture  the  offender,  the  tricky 
scamp  at  my  side,  would  mutter  in  low  tones  which 
could  not  reach  the  overseer's  ears,  owing  to  the  rattle 
of  the  machinery,  but  was  perfectly  audible  to  me.  I 
learned  eventually  that  numbers  of  the  convicts  trained 
themselves  to  mutter  without  moving  their  lips,  so  that 
if  the  officer  were  watching  their  very  faces  he  would 
not  detect  the  conversation  at  six  paces  from  them.  Of 
course  this  sotto  voce  intercourse  could  only  take  place 
between  the  two  men  working  at  the  same  desk.  I 
never  answered  my  talkative  neighbor,  and  he  took  great 
offence  thereat;  intimating  that  I  was  trying  to  curry 
favor  with  the  officials. 

However,  notwithstanding  all  my  industry  to  escape 
repeated  hectorings  for  my  alleged  "slowness  and  bung- 
ling" "Sir  Fussibus,"  whom  I  have  already  alluded  to 
as  an  inveterate  driver,  daily  passed  down  the  shops, 
picking  up  shoes,  looking  them  over,  and  tossing  them 
down  contemptuously;  generally  calling  the  "instruc- 
tor," and  "overseer,"  to  whom  he  would  pour  out  a 
stream  of  fault-finding,  threats,  and  expletives ;  his  shrill 
voice  rising  even  above  the  uproar  of  the  machines  and 
hammers.  The  explanation  of  this  "driving"  lies  in  the 
fact  that  the  convicts  are  hired  at  a  fixed  price  per  day : 
hence  the  "Boss"  tries  to  get  as  much  work  as  possible, 
and  the  best  possible  quality  of  work,  out  of  each  and 
every  man  in  the  shop.  And  he  succeeds!  The  "East- 
ern New  York  Shoe  Company"  which  organized  ten 
years  ago  (1861)  with  a  cash  capital  of  only  $10,000, 
now   (1871)   has  above  $300,000  invested  in  the  busi- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  163 

ness,  besides  fully  $50,000  worth  of  horses,  wagons,  ma- 
chinery, etc.  The  office  of  the  Company  down  in  Al- 
bany is  fitted  up  at  almost  as  great  cost  as  the  original 
capital.  The  ceiling  of  the  reception  room  is  composed 
of  strips  of  all  the  different  kinds  of  wood  in  America, 
closely  joined  together,  and  varnished,  at  a  cost  of 
$3,000!  This  will  give  an  idea  of  the  profits  of  the 
concern.  The  advantages  of  having  steady  workmen,  do- 
ing a  fixed  quantity  of  work  every  week,  and  complete- 
ly under  control,  so  that  there  need  by  no  "botch- work," 
or  irregularity,  are  so  great,  and  recognised,  that  the 
company  is  constantly  crowded  with  orders ;  consequent- 
ly crowd  the  poor  devils  who  are  forced  to  drudge  for 
them,  without  thanks  or  recompense. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  describe  the  various  pro- 
cesses through  which  each  shoe  passes  on  its  way  to  the 
packing  box :  but  I  am  not  able  to  speak  otherwise  than 
in  general  terms.  Each  shoe  passes  through  the  hands 
of  37  men,  from  the  beginning ;  the  man  who  cuts  out  the 
upper  leathers,  (using  sheet-iron  patterns),  to  the  man 
who  pastes  the  ornamental  labels  on  the  bottom,  and 
packs  the  cases,  60  pairs  in  a  case.  Thus,  there  are  men 
who  sew  the  "uppers"  and  "linings;"  men  to  put  in  the 
"lasts;"  men  to  drive  the  heel  pegs;  men  to  "trim;"  men 
to  "bind;"  to  "sand-paper;"  to  "blacken  and  polish;"  to 
"punch  the  eyelets"  and  clamp  the  nickel-plated  linings; 
to  varnish  the  exteriors;  to  "whiten  the  shanks;"  to 
string  the  pairs  together,  to  "number  and  label;"  etc. 
Several  large  sewing  machines  are  used;  several  clamp- 
ing machines;  a  large  "heel-cutter"  to  each  "team"  (37 
men) ,  and  other  valuable  machinery  which  so  accelerates 
the  work,  that,  although  thirty-seven  men  handle  each 
shoe,  the  aggregate  daily  work  of  100  men  is  above  600 
pairs,  equivalent  to  twelve  shoes  a  day  for  all !  Country 
Crispins  who  would  require  two  full  days  to  make  a 
pair  of  shoes  of  as  fine  finish  as  these,  can  realize  the 
surprising  advantage  derived  from  the  use  of  this  im- 
proved machinery.  The  quality  of  the  work  is  gener- 
ally above  that  of  outside  private  factories,  as  the  con- 
victs can  be  beaten  and  bullied  into  extreme  carefulness 
of  execution,  and  they  are  not  supplied  with  paste,  and 


164  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

other  means  for  concealing  a  careless  cut,  which  ruins 
the  shoe.  The  shoes  made  are  almost  entirely  for  ladies 
and  children:  and  are  of  all  sizes  and  qualities.  Any 
one  not  accustomed  to  the  shoe  business  would  probably 
be  amazed  at  the  sight  of  a  dozen  different  streams — yes, 
actual  streams — of  shoes,  moving  rapidly  from  bench 
to  bench  until  neatly  bunched  in  pairs,  and  strung  on 
poles  to  be  carried  to  the  packroom.  I  do  not  know 
how  many  minutes  are  occupied  in  making  a  single  shoe, 
but  to  the  onlooker  it  must  appear  a  very  brief  period. 
Perhaps  a  better  idea  may  be  gotten  from  the  fact  that 
the  daily  product  of  the  four  shops  must  be  above  three 
thousand  pairs!  Eighteen  thousand  pairs  each  week 
the  whole  year  round !  Where  do  they  go  ?  What  be- 
comes of  the  "old  shoes"  that  step  aside  every  month  for 
these  seventy-jive  thousands  of  pairs  of  "new  shoes?" 
Yet  this  is  but  the  yield  of  a  single  institution,  and  all 
for  women  and  children.  I  often  wonder  if  the  fastidi- 
ous dame  who  purchases  a  pair  of  fancy,  silk  or  satin- 
lined  gaiters  for  herself,  and  a  little  chubby  pair  for  her 
baby's  "footsy-tootsy"  would  ever  dream  that  they  had 
been  cut  out  into  shape  by  a  forger,  "lasted"  by  a  negro 
burglar,  who  transferred  them  to  a  sneak-thief,  who 
passed  them  to  a  ravisher,  who  handed  them  to  the  mur- 
derer, under  "life-sentence,"  at  the  sewing  board,  who 
passed  them  on  down  a  line  composed  of  a  villainous- 
looking  gang  of  villainous-acting  men,  from  all  the 
slums  of  the  land!  Hardly!  Indeed  I  suppose  there  are 
very  few  persons,  even  of  the  men  who  sell  retail  the  hand- 
some products  of  felon-labor  who  have  any  idea  whence 
they  came,  or  how  they  were  manufactured.  A  com- 
plete revolution  in  shoe-making  has  occurred  by  gradual 
stages  within  the  past  twenty  years  or  so.  The  cobbler 
and  his  lap-stone,  have  long  ago  given  place  to  machin- 
ery and  "piece  work."  Large  manufacturers  have 
found  that  twenty  men  selected  according  to  their  ca- 
pacity for  particular  work,  and  put  at  work,  each  upon 
his  "specialty,"  will  make  a  dozen  times  more  shoes  than 
if  each  were  set  at  work  to  make  the  whole  shoe  himself. 
This  is  the  result  of  ingenious  machinery.  Probably 
from  75  to  80  per  cent  of  all  the  work  now  done  in  mak- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  165 

ing  a  pair  of  shoes,  is  by  machines,  which  not  only  far 
surpass  manual  labor  in  speed,  but  also  in  the  excellence 
and  regularity  of  the  work.  The  "uppers"  of  the  shoe 
are  cut  by  hand  because  of  the  variableness  of  the  leather 
in  the  skin;  and  the  "lasts"  are  inserted  by  hand.  But 
there  are  machines  to  do  the  binding,  pasting,  closing, 
crimping,  stitching,  heeling,  and  polishing,  all  without 
help  of  the  hand.  By  the  use  of  all  these  machines  ten 
men  can  make  between  five  and  six  hundred  pairs  of 
shoes  every  twelve  working  hours.  Many  New  Eng- 
land factories  turn  out  2500  pairs  a  day,  when  trade 
is  flush.  The  annual  product  of  the  shoe  business  in 
the  United  States  according  to  the  Census  of  1870  was 
$18,644,090;  being  the  fourth  largest  industry  in  the 
country.  Flour,  iron  and  lumber,  were  somewhat  great- 
er. Considerably  over  one  hundred  million  of  pairs 
of  shoes  are  annually  manufactured  in  the  Northern 
States  alone ;  not  to  speak  of  the  cobblers,  of  whom  there 
are  from  two  to  ten  in  every  village  and  hamlet  in  the 
land.  The  Massachusetts  manufacturers  become  mil- 
lionaires in  a  few  years.  A  single  factory  turns  out 
200  different  varieties  of  shoes.  Millions  of  shoe  "lasts" 
are  turned  out  every  year. 

*****  *i 

Respecting  the  system  of  discipline  enforced  in  Al- 
bany Penitentiary  I  hesitate  to  speak,  because  it  is  not 
easy  for  one  in  my  situation  to  form  a  correct  estimate 
of  the  difficulties  and  necessities  of  the  case.  To  form 
a  just  judgment  of  such  matters,  one  needs  to  have 
some  acquaintance  with  the  persons  to  be  affected  by 
them.  Thus  many  things  which  seem  unnecessarily 
rigorous  and  severe  to  me,  may  be  actually  indispen- 
sable as  curbs  to  the  ungovernable  characters,  which 
compose  the  bulk  of  the  inmates.  This  illustrates  the 
great  lack  of  something  like  classification.  During  the 
first  eight  or  nine  months  of  my  imprisonment  I  was 
frequently  spoken  to  by  the  overseer  in  a  rough  and 
domineering  tone  in  reply  to  questions  I  had  asked, 
or  to  reprove  me  for  some  minor  infraction  of  the  rules, 

1  A  discussion  of  the  profits  of  the  factory  and  the  weaknesses  of  the  system  is 
here  omitted. 


166  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

committed  through  ignorance,  or  perhaps  momentary 
forgetfulness.  I  have  mentioned  the  instance  when 
I  smiled;  the  overseer  told  me  he  would  make  me  "laugh 
on  the  other  side  of  your  mouth  if  you  try  that  game 
again,"  etc.  Another  time  he  abused  me  outrageously 
for  not  doing  enough  work,  when  I  had  never  been  idle 
a  moment  during  the  day.  Another  overseer  almost 
cursed  me  for  cutting  a  shoe,  although  I  was  a  green 
hand,  and  having  never  worked  an  hour  in  my  life,  was 
naturally  awkward  with  tools.  Again  I  asked  an  offi- 
cer (white)  what  "that  cannonading  meant;"  he  re- 
plied, "Mind  your  business,"  etc.,  instead  of  merely  say- 
ing "Prisoners  must  not  ask  such  questions,"  in  a  firm, 
but  not  insulting  tone. 

I  must  admit,  however,  that  from  the  majority  of  the 
officers  I  have  received  respectful  treatment ;  and  after 
the  two  overseers  mentioned  above,  had  perceived  that 
the  Supt.  was  favorably  disposed  towards  me,  they  al- 
tered their  manner,  and  I  had  no  more  trouble.  Fur- 
thermore, I  know  that  it  is  contrary  to  the  wishes  and 
instructions  of  the  Supt.  for  any  subordinate  officer  to 
use  violent  and  abusive  language  to  the  men.  General 
Pilsbury,  (whose  system  is  continued  by  his  son,  the 
present  Supt.)  took  an  advanced  and  enlightened  view 
of  the  objects  for  which  Penitentiaries  should  be  built. 
He  thought  they  should  be  something  more  than  mere 
barracks,  where  a  few  hundreds  of  misguided  men  might 
be  collected  and  tortured  until  they  paid  for  their  crimes 
with  the  Shylock-pound  of  flesh;  but  on  the  contrary, 
he  would  have  them  act  as  Reformatories,  in  which  the 
offender  must  undergo  a  salutary  punishment,  but  still 
preserve  his  manhood,  and  some  measure  of  self-respect. 
Men,  he  considered,  must  be  made  to  see  that  their  suf- 
ferings were  the  natural  results  of  their  faults,  but  at 
the  same  time,  be  encouraged  to  hope  that  both  the  fault 
and  its  consequence  might  be  avoided  in  future.  In 
this  spirit,  he  enjoined  upon  his  officers  that  they  should 
be  stern  and  firm,  but  calm;  be  prompt  and  vigilant,  but 
just  and  impartial;  be  severe  when  necessary,  but  exer- 
cise discipline  without  showing  passion,  or  personal  re- 
sentment, etc.     Such  I  believe,  were  his  sentiments,  and 


The  Shotwell  Papers  167 

the  policy  he  desired  to  carry  out.  But  unfortunately 
all  men  are  not  so  liberal;  and  the  class  of  men,  who 
commonly  fill  the  subordinate  offices,  is  not  the  one  in 
which  wise  and  enlightened  views  most  fully  abound. 
And  the  subordinates — the  Overseers,  Guards,  Watch- 
men, etc. — have  it  in  their  power  to  nullify  more  or  less, 
if  not  actually  to  defeat,  the  policy  of  the  Supt.  For 
they,  being  in  constant  contact  with  the  prisoners,  may 
if  they  choose,  irritate,  and  provoke  even  the  mildest  of 
men  into  some  breach  of  discipline  which  will  afford 
them  an  excuse  for  severity  to  him.  Thus  in  my  own 
case,  I  was  resolved  to  obey  the  rules  and  demand  the 
respect  of  my  custodians ;  yet  there  were  occasions  when 
I  felt  that  I  had  been  roughly  and  unjustly  used,  and 
very  little  would  have  goaded  me  into  some  act  or  speech 
that  would  have  been  turned  very  much  to  my  disadvan- 
tage. The  only  remedy  for  this,  that  I  now  think  of, 
would  be  to  give  an  higher  salary  to  the  subordinates, 
and  thereby  obtain  a  more  intelligent  class  of  men. 

Upon  the  whole  I  must  admit  that  so  far  as  I  can  see 
Albany  Penitentiary  is  admirably  appointed,  and  con- 
ducted. I  am  satisfied  that  if  the  inmates  shall  faith- 
fully obey  the  rules  they  will  sustain  no  ill  treatment, 
nor  other  hardships  than  is  the  object  of  the  institution, 
i.  e.,  hard  labor,  close  restraint,  coarse  food  and  clothing, 
together  with  the  deprivation  of  all  comforts  not  ac- 
tually indispensible  to  existence. 

I  have  never  seen  any  act  of  violence  and  brutality, 
such  as  is  apt  to  be  suggested  in  the  popular  mind  by 
the  mention  of  a  Penitentiary. 

I  have  seen  an  insolent  and  insubordinate  darkey  or 
still  meaner  white  man,  cuffed  or  kicked  occasionally, 
but  always  the  wretches  were  so  provoking  that  I  did 
not  blame  the  overseer,  and  I  doubt  if  the  offender  cared 
for  it  in  the  least.  I  know,  also,  that  great  complaints 
are  made  by  some  of  the  prisoners  that  they  were  kept 
in  the  dungeon  with  their  hands  and  feet  chained  in  such 
a  manner  that  they  could  neither  stand,  sit,  not  lie,  for 
weeks  at  a  stretch.  But  I  daresay  they  richly  merited 
all  they  received,  and  very  likely  they  did  not  receive 


168  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

what  they  say  they  did,  for  there  is  very  little  truth  to 
be  got  from  the  majority  of  them. 

I  must  mention  to  the  credit  of  Capt.  Pilsbury  that, 
instead  of  wishing  to  throw  obstacles  in  the  way  of  men 
applying  for  pardon,  he  is  always  ready  to  assist  any  of 
the  prisoners  whose  conduct  has  been  exemplary ;  and  to 
my  knowledge  he  has  of  his  own  motion,  written  for, 
and  obtained  the  pardon  of  men  whose  ill-health  made 
them  objects  of  pity.  And  I  am  satisfied  that  any  man 
who  shall  behave  properly  can  in  time  obtain  his  recom- 
mendation for  pardon. 

ANOTHER  OFFER  OF  FREEDOM! 

The  first  half  dozen  days  of  my  confinement  in  Al- 
bany Penitentiary  have  no  parallel  in  the  recollections 
of  my  life  time,  either  in  length  of  duration,  or  physical, 
or  mental  misery.  Grasp  the  idea,  if  you  can,  of  sud- 
denly realizing  yourself  on  the  footing  of  a  convict,  (it 
matters  not  how  wrongfully  so)  surrounded  by  convicts, 
and  undergoing  all  the  drudgery  of  ignominious  labor; 
working  with  automatic  regularity  from  dawn  till  after 
sunset;  standing,  mute,  motionless,  speechless,  voiceless, 
eyeless  in  a  measure,  without  change  of  posture,  of  em- 
ployment, or  of  thought,  for  there  is  naught  to  suggest 
new  ideas  or  divert  the  mind  from  the  bitter  recollec- 
tions of  the  recent  trial,  the  abuse  of  the  Judge  and 
Radical  lawyers,  the  misconstruction  of  friends,  the 
falsity  of  suborned  witnesses,  the  brutality  of  the  offi- 
cers,— the  whole  sad  story!  Herein  is  the  terrible  dif- 
ference between  Albany  Penitentiary  and  all  other  pris- 
ons in  existence!  Instead  of  being  merely  confined, 
and  forced  to  labor  the  specified  terms,  with  the  privi- 
lege of  working  for  himself  at  odd  hours,  or  employing 
his  little  leisure  in  reading,  writing,  or  other  harmless 
occupations,  the  poor  wretch  who  enters  Albany  Peni- 
tentiary, whether  for  a  week,  a  month,  or  a  lifetime,  in- 
stantly learns  that  all  volition,  all  opportunities  for  self- 
culture,  all  exercise  of  his  natural  powers,  except  those 
of  eating,  sleeping,  and  laboring,  have  passed  from  him, 
leaving  him  in  the  aimless  condition  of  the  blind  horse 
turning  the  treadmill;  nay  worse,  a  mere  human  ma- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  169 

chine,  for  the  animal  is  as  well  pleased  in  his  treadmill 
round,  as  when  otherwise  employed,  and  if  badly  treated 
will  resent  the  abuse  with  his  heels.  Is  my  statement 
too  strongly  colored?  Let  me  call  an  intelligent  witness 
who  visited  the  Penitentiary  during  the  same  year  I 
passed  within  its  walls.  He  was  kindly  disposed,  his 
predilections  were  in  favor  of  the  Superintendent,  (who 
to  his  friends  is  one  of  the  cleverest  gentlemen)  and  he 
was  given  every  facility  for  forming  his  judgment. 
Here  is  his  report  as  published — an  extract  from — a 
few  days  after  his  visit  to  Albany.  It  is  much  less  than 
the  actual  truth  and  no  one  could  judge  the  reality 
without  being  turned  over  to  the  "tender  mercies"  (!) 
of  the  prison  "understrappers"  for  a  season.  He  writes 
as  follows:  "It  is  a  principle  with  the  Rules  at  this 
Penitentiary  to  so  enclose  the  prisoner  with  restrictions 
that  for  him  to  take  the  least  liberty  whatever,  indicates 
Revolt!  In  other  words  he  is  enveloped  in  the  meshes 
of  the  rules  that  should  he  step  aside  from  his  rank,  or 
turn  his  head,  or  stumble,  or  drop  his  hand  from  its  ap- 
pointed place,  or  whisper,  or  nod, — the  Keepers  put 
their  hands  on  their  revolvers  and  in  due  time  the  man  is 
punished.  He  is  not  like  a  man  manacled  at  the  wrists, 
and  at  the  ankles,  who  may  speak,  crawl,  bite,  turn,  and 
move  as  far  as  his  irons  will  permit  him,  but  he  is  like  a 
man  thrown  upon  his  back,  and  bound  with  cords, 
gagged,  blinded,  and  ear-battened.  He  is  helpless,  al- 
most breathless.  He  is  down;  he  is  under  a  weight  and 
cannot  resist." 

These,  however,  were  but  physical  ills — scarcely  no- 
ticeable by  me,  in  comparison  with  the  mental  torture 
of  being  herded  with  the  outcasts  and  outlaws  of  half 
the  continent;  being  looked  upon  and  rated  as  a  "pal" 
by  them,  and  so  considered  by  the  prison  authorities; 
being  isolated  from  all  companionship;  deprived  of  in- 
structive books,  papers,  etc.;  and  cut  off  even  from  a 
knowledge  of  passing  transactions  in  the  world,  as  well 
as  among  my  acquaintance.  A  man  may  isolate  him- 
self for  a  time,  from  all  his  former  friends  and  associa- 
tions, but  to  keep  it  up  long  he  must  have  some  engross- 
ing mental  occupation,  or  he  must  have  first  had  his 


170  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

mind  soured  by  disappointment,  failure,  or  other  mis- 
anthropic cause.  Ordinarily  your  Hermit  is  half -crazy  to 
begin  with,  and  soon  wholly  so.  Although  even  the  her- 
mit in  his  cell  was  shut  out  from  human  sympathy  and 
congenial  diversions  less  than  was  I ;  because  upon  him 
rested  no  sense  of  constraint;  no  hostile,  ever-present 
eye  played  spy  upon  his  movements;  and  so  long  as  he 
possessed  his  pipe,  his  pictures,  his  pen,  and  his  pet  pro- 
duction, whether  in  the  realms  of  science,  religion,  or 
poesy,  he  was  measurably  armed  against  solitude. 

I  have  said  that  the  first  week  of  my  Penitentiary 
experience  surpassed  in  misery  anything  I  had  ever 
before  known,  or  ever  can  again.  It  is  thus  with  all 
the  genteel  class  of  prisoners,  I  am  told;  the  first  fort- 
night reveals  all  the  harsher  phases  of  the  condemna- 
tion, unrelieved  by  habit,  or  the  dulled  acceptance 
which  comes  in  the  course  of  time  through  the  conscious- 
ness of  necessity ;  while  also  aggravated  by  the  distress  of 
mind  attending  the  conviction.  To  me,  each  feature 
and  incident  of  the  prison  system  was  a  fresh  mortifi- 
cation, and  every  day  seemed  longer,  and  more  un- 
bearable than  its  predecessor.  It  was  startling  enough 
to  my  equanimity  when  put  at  work  among  a  gang  of 
filthy  creatures,  without  having  them  use  the  same  wash- 
basin, towel,  and  drinking  cup,  (whites  and  blacks  alike) 
that  I  must  use  if  I  did  any !  It  was  quite  as  trying  to 
have  the  coarse  coffee-sack  shirt  which  replaced  my 
linen,  and  my  underclothing,  changed  only  once  a  week, 
and  having  been  thrown  into  a  pile  with  the  vermin- 
covered,  nasty  shells  of  the  other  prisoners  (white  and 
black)  and  washed  together,  returning  to  me  often 
much  blacker  than  when  sent  out  (because  boiled  in 
the  same  boilers  with  the  lamp-blackened  shirts  of  the 
polishers  and  varnishers)  and  often  so  infested  with 
vile  vermin  as  to  take  all  my  leisure  for  several  days  in 
cleansing  it!  Worse  still,  was  the  constant  [torn]  at 
night  with  the  bed-bugs  and  chinches,  which  infested 
the  crevices  in  the  bricks,  and  swarmed  in  search  of 
"meat  or  blood"  almost  before  the  sun  had  retired  to  his 
couch  among  the  fleecy  clouds  upon  the  blue  level  of  the 
Western  horizon.  But  of  this  more  anon.  Most  annoying 


The  Shotwell  Papers  171 

of  all  things  was  the  inevitable  weekly  "shave"  by  the 
mulatto  barber.     He  had  been  a  tenth-rate  "hacker" 
in  some  half-dime  barber  shop,  and  being  quite  as  reck- 
less with  his  razor  outside  of  his  shop  as  within  it,  came 
hither  on  a  long  term  sentence,  and  was  assigned  to 
repeat  his  barba-rous  operations  upon  the  helpless  pris- 
oners.    It  was  no  light  job  to  shave  600  stubbly  faces, 
and  he  slashed  his  way  through  them  with  no  light  hand, 
or  apparent  care  whether  he  chopped  the  nose,  eyebrows, 
and  an  inch  of  the  chin  of  his  victims,  or  only  a  small 
portion  of  their  ears.     Having  so  many  to  dock,  he 
usually  began  on  Friday  morning  and  went  from  shop 
to  shop  in  regular  order.     He  carried  with  him  a  rough 
barber's  chair,  two  small  washpans,  two  ordinary  paint 
brushes,  and  a  couple  of  razors.     When  he  appeared 
in  the  shop,  the  overseer  thereof  sounded  his  hand-gong, 
and  two  of  the  convicts  stepped  up  to  the  overseer's 
desk,  by  the  side  of  which  they  ranged  themselves,  and 
each  taking  one  of  the  big  paint  brushes  hastened  to 
swab  his  face  all  over  with  white  lather  from  the  soft- 
soap  stuff  in  the  basins.     As  soon  as  one  of  these  was 
seated  in  the  barber's  chair,  to  be  shaved,  the  overseer 
tapped  his  bell  for  another  man  to  come  forward  and 
daub  his  face.     Thus  the  stream  of  going  and  coming 
men  was  kept  up  until  all  were  shaved.     Here  was  an- 
other ordeal  for  me,  viz.,  to  use  the  brush  and  lather 
just  laid  down  by  a  filthy  negro,  or  equally  revolting 
white  vagabond  and  after  enduring  this,  to  undergo  the 
whacking  of  the  mulatto's  razors,  which  if  even  sharp- 
ened at  the  start  were  dull  as  a  wedge  long  before  my 
turn  came!     My  skin  is  very  tender  and  often,  almost 
always,  indeed,  the  blood  was  oozing  from  various  por- 
tions of  my  face  for  half  an  hour  after  the  operation. 
These  things  may  seem  of  small  moment  to  the  general 
reader.     But  ah!  the  bitterness,  the  humiliation  of  hav- 
ing to  submit  to  them.     And  just  after  my  first  week's 
experience  thereof  there  came  to  me  the  sorest  tempta- 
tion and  self-abnegation  of  my  life.     Every  hour  of  my 
confinement  had  revealed  new  evidence  of  the  fact  that 
I  was  virtually  in  a  living  grave,  and  that  if  I  remained 
the  full  extent  of  my  sentence  I  must  make  up  my  mind 


172  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

not  only  to  lose  the  six  best  years  of  my  youth  but  also 
give  up  health,  energy,  and  mental  power,  for  no  man 
reared  as  I  had  been,  and  naturally  sensitive  and  shrink- 
ing, could  undergo  such  a  term  of  years  in  the  daily 
treadmill  of  the  shoe-shops  without  losing  heart,  hope, 
and  health.  It  was  not  so  much  the  confinement  as  the 
discipline,  the  rigidity  of  monotonous  routine,  and  the 
absence  of  all  food  for  thought,  and  diversion  for  the 
mind. .  .  . 

Having  now  reached  the  date  at  which  my  private 
diary  begins,  I  cease  to  generalize,  and  henceforth  shall 
give  only  such  notes  as  I  have  made  from  day  to  day. 

I  know  not  whether  any  apology  is  necessary  for  the 
keeping  of  a  record  of  one's  personal  experience;  al- 
though it  may  appear  to  be  dictated  by  egotism.  But 
for  my  part,  I  have  a  deliberate  purpose  in  view,  and 
every  little  light  or  shade  of  my  present  life  I  desire  to 
remember,  to  grave  it  indelibly  upon  my  memory  that 
I  may  resent  where  resentment  is  due,  and  appreciate 
where  gratitude  is  due,  and  draw  lessons  for  future 
guidance  from  all.  Moreover,  having  no  opportunities 
for  social  converse,  no  congenial  companions,  nothing 
diverting  for  the  mind,  I  find  it  an  agreeable  interlude 
to  my  studies  to  take  my  quill  and  scribble  the  vagaries 
of  the  hour;  not  doubting  either  that  one  day  I  shall 
derive  pleasure  from  the  reperusal  of  these  scrawls. 
For,  like  most  persons  who  have  been  bred  upon  books, 

I  love  to  linger  on  the  track 
Wherever  I  have  dwelt; 
In  after  years  to  .  .  .  [  ?]  back 
And  feel  as  once  I  felt. 

I  must  explain,  however,  that  for  8  months  or  more 
after  I  came  here  I  was  without  a  pencil  or  writing 
material ;  nothing  of  that  kind  being  allowed  the  prison- 
ers. All  my  notes,  therefore,  were  made  clandestinely 
on  scraps  of  waste  paper;  with  an  home-made  pencil, 
consisting  of  a  piece  of  lamp  black  fastened  in  a  pine 
handle.  Nearly  every  convict  here  has  one  of  these, 
and,  although  the  authorities  do  their  best  to  break  it 
up,  an  active  correspondence  is  kept  up  between  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  173 

men  of  each  shop.  Notes  are  tossed  and  passed  about 
with  astonishing  dexterity  directly  under  the  overseer's 
eyes,  or  at  the  moment  his  back  is  turned.  Fortunately, 
I  had  no  desire  for  any  intercourse  with  my  fellow  pris- 
oners; and  in  time,  Capt.  Pilsbury  saw  fit  to  make  an 
exception  in  my  favor,  allowing  me  pencil,  book,  etc. 
The  following  entry  is  taken  litteratim  from  the  notes 
made  on  the  evening  of  the  day  of  Lieut.  McEwan's 
visit,  and  I  copy  it  in  full,  because  subsequent  trans- 
actions are  somewhat  connected  with  it;  i.  e.,  I  have 
been  misrepresented  with  respect  to  my  language  etc., 
at  that  interview.  Capt.  P.  will  confirm  my  report  of  it. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEENTH 

The  Diary,  1871-1873— A  Tantalizing,  But  Shameful 

Offer  of  Freedom 

Albany  Penitentiary,  Oct.  16,  1871. 

For  eight  days  I  had  walked  from  dawn  till  dusk  in 
the  monotonous  and  depressing  tread-mill-round  of  the 
Prison  requirements.  Eight  days!  and  without  the 
deviation  of  a  hair's  breadth  in  time,  in  labor,  or  in  the 
enforced  rigidity  of  our  movements!  It  was  almost 
impossible  to  realize  that  only  a  week  had  elapsed ;  only 
a  week !  when  I  could  make  oath  it  had  been  a  full  month 
or  more!  On  the  morning  of  October  16th,  the  over- 
seer startled  me  by  a  silent  punch  upon  the  shoulder, 
with  a  beckoning  gesture,  to  follow  him.  "You  are 
wanted  at  the  Hall;  brush  your  clothes,"  he  muttered 
in  low  tone.  I  was  still  very  nervous,  and  this  mysteri- 
ous summons  affected  me  so  that  as  I  crossed  the  broad 
court  yard  towards  the  main  building  I  staggered  like 
a  drunken  man.  Furthermore  I  forgot  to  fold  my 
arms,  and  was  still  farther  unbalanced  by  a  cross  com- 
mand from  the  "Deputy"  whom  I  chanced  to  meet  on 
the  walk.  "Fold  them  arms!  Keep  your  arms  folded 
when  you  are  not  at  work;  And  don't  be  gawking  all 
over  this  yard!  Keep  your  eyes  on  the  ground!  That's 
the  place  for  them!"  were  his  surly  utterances  and  no 
language  can  convey  the  arbitrary  despotic  intonation 
with  which  they  were  half -hissed  into  my  ears!  My 
face  burned  as  he  spoke,  but  instantly  a  feeling  of  sick- 
ening helplessness,  and  hopelessness  took  possession  of 
me,  and  I  walked  on  as  in  a  dream.  A  turnkey  led  the 
way  up  the  steps  through  a  double-door  (padded  to  ex- 
clude every  sound  of  the  prison)  into  the  guard-room, 
or  Visitors'  Reception  Room;  a  broad,  handsome  apart- 
ment carpeted  with  oil-cloth,  ornamented  with  pictures, 
and  so  bright,  light,  and  comfortable  as  to  form  a  vivid 
contrast  with  the  prison  hall  just  left.  The  only  sign 
of  the  proximity  of  the  latter,  are  the  rows  of  racks 

174 


The  Shotwell  Papers  175 

along  the  walls  with  the  double  barreled  guns,  carbines, 
and  pistols  of  the  Guards.  But  we  do  not  stop  here. 
Passing  into,  and  along  a  broad  hall,  the  main  entrance 
to  the  Superintendent's  residence,  or  middle  block  of  the 
edifice,  we  enter  the  "Office"  of  Genl.  Pilsbury.  When 
in  the  hall,  we  discover  that  all  traces  of  the  prison 
have  given  place  to  the  ornaments,  the  comforts,  and 
elegancies  of  a  wealthy  private  residence.  The  office 
is  like  the  drawing  room  of  a  cottage.  Engravings  and 
statuettes  adorn  the  walls,  flowers  in  vases  fill  the  win- 
dows, a  large  oleander  occupies  one  corner,  large  crim- 
son-plush easy  chairs  and  sofas,  a  library  of  books,  a 
splendid  safe,  etc.,  fill  the  room.  Flowering  vines  are 
trellised  on  the  outside  of  the  windows,  and  there  are 
fancy  cages  suspended  in  the  arches.  Seen  through 
these  windows  the  front  grounds  of  the  Prison  are  those 
of  a  magnificent  private  mansion,  with  not  the  slightest 
suggestion  of  the  gloomy  sepulchre  of  human  lives  a 
few  feet  distant.  On  each  side  of  the  broad  graveled 
walk,  or  carriage  drive,  are  well-trained  beds  of  flowers, 
carefully  selected  to  show  delicious  contrasts  of  color 
almost  all  the  year  round;  a  smooth  cut  grassy  lawn 
slopes  down  to  a  little  rivulet,  (over  which  are  several 
rustic  suspension  bridges),  and  rises  again  to  the  dis- 
tant road,  and  the  high  iron  enclosing  fence.  Shade 
trees  over-spread  the  lawn,  and  have  painted  seats  at 
their  base.  The  broad  streak  of  morning  sunlight  en- 
livens the  curving  carriage-sweep  in  front  of  the  main 
door;  and  the  merry  prattle  of  Genl.  Pilsbury's  three 
grandchildren,  two  girls  and  a  boy,  gaily  dressed  and 
playing  "hide-go-seek"  among  the  shrubbery,  joins  with 
the  chirp  of  the  canaries,  and  the  odor  of  large  bouquets 
of  bright  gladiolas,  chrysanthemums  and  dahlias,  or 
other  cut  flowers  in  the  great  centre-table  vase,  do  impart 
an  air  of  charming  cheerfulness,  culture,  and  refinement 
that  seems  a  perfect  Paradise  to  me,  after  my  experi- 
ence in  the  solitary,  gloomy  cell,  and  the  sullen,  joyless 
workshops.  Even  the  air  seems  of  a  different  quality — 
brighter,  sweeter,  free  from  the  faint,  irradicable,  prison 
odor  which  no  condition  of  cleanliness  will  altogether 
prevent  in  a  crowded  prison.     It  is  hardly  necessary  to 


176  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

state  that  all  these  details  were  taken  with  a  few  glances 
of  the  eye,  in  much  less  time  than  herein  described; 
though  in  after  visits  I  had  opportunity  to  verify  my 
first  observations,  and  accompanying  impressions. 
Trembling  and  nervous  I  paused  on  the  threshold,  until 
a  familiar  voice  said,  "Is  that  you,  Shotwell?"  It  was 
Lieut.  McEwan,  who  at  once  came  and  offered  me  his 
hand;  remarking  to  Genl.  Pilsbury  that  he  scarcely 
recognised  me:  did  not  think  the  prison  "uniform,"  and 
a  few  days  confinement  would  make  so  great  a  change 
in  any  one's  appearance,  etc.  "But,"  he  continued, 
addressing  me,  " It's  all  right  now,  Shotwell.  I've  come 
to  fioc  things  to  set  you  free!"  I  muttered  my  doubts 
and,  in  my  agitation,  seated  myself  with  him  at  the 
large  centre  table.  "You  may  take  a  seat''  said  Genl.  P. 
in  lordly  tone,  which  told  me  very  plainly  I  was  presum- 
ing on  good  nature,  and  the  omnipresent  "Rules;" 
though  I  knew  it  not.  (N.B. — At  this  time,  of  course, 
the  old  General  knew  nothing  of  me  except  what  the 
lying  correspondents,  and  Radical  U.  S.  marshal's  dep- 
uties, had  told  him) . 

"Yes,"  quoth  McEwan,  "I  have  had  a  long  and  tire- 
some jaunt  of  it,  but  I  promised  you  I  would  get  you 
out;  so  I  went  right  to  Baltimore  and  talked  it  over  with 
Judge  Bond,  and  he  directed  me  to  go  and  see  President 
Grant.  But  I  thought  the  safest  way  would  be  to  go 
back  to  Raleigh,  and  see  Govr.  Caldwell,  Phillips,  and 
the  rest ;  so  then  I  came  to  Washington  and  saw  Grant, 
and  its  all  right — I  knew  I  could  fix  it  easy  enough. 
Now  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  sit  right  here,  and  give  me 
a  full  statement  of  all  you  know  about  the  Klan,"  ( Here 
he  ceased  sharpening  his  lead  pencil,  and  unrolled  a 
large  roll  of  "legal  cap"  paper  which  he  had  brought 
with  him,  under  his  arm,  to  receive  the  important  revela- 
tions I  was  expected  to  make  in  exchange  for  the  sweet 
hour  of  liberty!)  "and  here  is  Capt.  P.  who  is  a  Notary 
Public:  he  will  attest  your  affidavit  as  soon  as  I  write 
it  out." 

Instantly  I  saw  that  McEwan  was  laboring  under  the 
mistaken  idea  that  I  was  crushed  and  outdone:  willing 
to  do  anything  whatever  to  escape  from  the  hardships 


The  Shotwell  Papers  177 

of  the  Penitentiary;  and  I  also  realized  how  his  action 
had  complicated  matters  and  thrown  an  additional  coil 
of  the  chain  around  me ;  for  after  an  officer  of  the  United 
States  Army  had  arranged  with  the  Government  to 
release  me  on  certain  conditions,  and  had  caused  the 
Grant- Ackerman-Bond  (and  local  lights)  conspirators 
to  believe  I  was  humbled,  and  anxious  to  "play  into 
their  hands,"  and  effect  the  ruin  of  a  great  many  prom- 
inent Democrats — after  all  this,  for  me  flatly  to  refuse 
to  accept  freedom  on  such  terms  was  to  extinguish  the 
last  spark  of  hope  of  release  until  Death  or  the  end  of 
my  six  years'  sentence  should  come!  The  thought  was 
agonizing!  However  I  responded  in  general  terms  that 
I  was  sorry  to  disappoint  him  after  the  interest  he  had 
shown  in  my  behalf,  but  that  I  had  no  knowledge  of  any 
crimes  committed  by  the  so-called  Klans,  and —  here 
the  Lieutenant  burst  in — "Oh!  Come,  now;  all  we  want 
is  to  know  the  facts,  about  this  organization,  who  are  the 
leaders,  who  are  the  chiefs,  and  the  prominent  members ; 
Come!  Be  reasonable,  make  a  clean  breast  of  it!  You 
know  you  told  me  to  do  all  I  could  for  you,  and  that 
you  would  do  anything  I  wanted,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing;  and  here  I  been  to  great  trouble  and  expense 
(this  trip  cost  me  over  two  hundred  dollars!)  and  now 
you  hang  back!"  Here  I  myself  interrupted  to  repudiate 
any  such  idea  as  that  I  had  promised  to  "make  a  clean 
breast,"  or  become  a  witness  against  my  fellow  members 
of  the  White  Brotherhood.  As  for  "confessing,"  said  I, 
"there  is  nothing  in  my  connection  with  the  Order  that 
I  would  hesitate  to  tell  you,  if  I  could  do  so  without 
implicating  scores  and  hundreds  of  respectable  citizens 
who  are  no  more  guilty  of  any  crime  than  am  I  myself, 
but  who  would  doubtless  be  subjected  to  all  the  mal- 
treatment, and  wrong  that  I  have  received  were  their 
names  known.  I  cannot  bring  them  into  difficulty  to  get 
myself  out."  He  then  changed  his  tone  from  "high- 
horse"  key  to  that  of  persuasion.  "Do  you  suppose" 
he  asked,  "your  friends  would  go  to  prison  to  keep  you 
comfortable  at  home?  "Name  one  who  would  come  here 
for  a  week,  or  remain  here  one  hour  to  shield  you  from 
annoyance?  You  cant  do  it!  Why,  it's  the  common  talk 


178  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

in  Raleigh  that  nobody  stuck  up  to  you,  except  Plato 
Durham  and  he  is  coming  here  to  keep  you  company,  if 
you  play  the  fool  and  sacrifice  yourself  to  save  a  lot  of 
fellows  who  did  nothing  for  you,  wouldn't  visit  you, 
wouldn't  go  your  bail,  and  are  now  abusing  you  in  the 
papers  as  if  they  hadn't  encouraged  this  whole  business. 
Why  Maguire,  the  jailor,  says  as  soon  as  you  were  sen- 
tenced all  your  friends  kept  away  from  the  jail,  and 
stopped  sending  anything;  and  I  can  tell  you  there  are 

plenty  of  leading  Democrats,  such  as  Col ,  and  Dr. 

,  and  old and  Major ,  who  say  openly  on 

the  streets  that  you  deserved  all  you  got,  and  they  are 
glad  you  were  sent  here,"  etc.,  etc. 

I  listened  to  these  declarations  with  the  feeling  of  one 
who  stands  upon  a  lonely  sand  bar,  cut  off  from  escape 
by  the  rising  tide  and  watches  the  steady  encroachments 
of  the  hungry  waves,  as  they  eat  away  the  pebbles  from 
beneath  his  feet,  and  steadily  narrow  his  standing  place, 
his  hopes,  and  his  life!  Every  day  seemed  to  discover 
some  new  circumstance  affecting  my  present  situation, 
and  my  future  prospects!  All  of  this  I  cannot  here  ex- 
plain. While  these  were  my  secret  sensations,  however, 
I  endeavored  to  answer  as  calmly  as  possible,  that  this 
was  a  portion  of  the  grievous  wrong  done  to  me  in 
"lumping"  my  case  with  dozens  of  others,  all  strangers 
to  me  previous  to  my  arrest,  and  in  bribing  a  few  ignor- 
ant, knavish  fellows  from  the  wilds  of  the  mountain  dis- 
trict to  manufacture  falsehoods  concerning  me,  so  that 
even  my  friends  in  other  parts  of  the  State,  not  know- 
ing the  low  character  of  my  accusers,  were  deceived,  and 
astounded,  thereby.  "Yet,"  I  continued,  "you  who  pro- 
fess to  be  my  well  wisher  and  friend,  would  persuade  me 
to  descend  to  the  level  of  these  infamous  "Pukes"  who 
have  perjured  themselves  twice;  once  when  they  broke 
their  solemn  oath  of  secrecy  and  again  when  they  swore 
falsely  on  the  witness  stand." 

"Ah!  but  you  stand  differently.  They  have  exposed 
and  disrupted  the  Klan.  You  admit  it  no  longer  has 
any  existence.  All  its  oaths,  signs  and  passwords  are 
known,  so  you  are  released  from  your  oath  of  secrecy. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  179 

You  can  now  state  all  you  know  about  the  Order  with- 
out doing  violence  to  your  oath,  or  your  feelings." 

In  reply  I  asked  him  if  he  was  a  Mason ;  also  whether, 
in  the  event  of  the  disruption  and  exposure  of  his  Lodge 
by  a  hostile  force  during  the  war,  even  if  the  Lodge 
should  never  re-organize,  he  would  consider  himself  ab- 
solved from  his  oath  of  secrecy.  He  laughed  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  to  say  there  was  no  parallel 
in  the  comparison;  and  the  reader  will  be  apt  to  think 
the  same.  But  I  cut  short  the  argument  by  stating  that 
I  never  had  taken  any  oath  whatever  in  connection  with 
the  Klan,  or  its  secrets;  the  tacit  confidence  which  one 
honorable  gentleman  reposes  in  another  being  the  only 
obligation  I  had  ever  incurred.  This  sense  of  honor,  and 
confidence,  must,  however,  close  my  lips  much  tighter, 
if  anything,  than  the  strongest  oath  so  long  as  my  fel- 
low citizens  were  imperiled.  Thereupon,  Genl.  Pilsbury 
who  had  been  sitting  by  the  window  apparently  en- 
grossed in  his  newspaper,  suddenly  spoke,  (having  been 
asked  to  do  so,  before  I  came  in,  perhaps),  "Shotwell 
you  had  better  tell  what  you  know  and  get  out  of  here ! 
I  have  no  interest  in  the  matter;  I  don't  know  you,  or 
anything  about  you.  But  as  between  man  and  man,  I 
advise  you  to  take  this  chance,  and  get  out  of  here.  It's 
a  hard  place;  that's  what  it's  made  for!  You'll  have  to 
obey  the  Rules,  and  they're  not  easy  for  a  man  that  has 
been  decently  reared.  But  we  can't  make  any  distinc- 
tions here.  It's  nothing  to  me,  but  I  advise  you  to  get  out 
of  here  if  the  government  will  let  you!  You  won't  get 
many  chances,  I  can  tell  you  that!" 

"No,  this  is  the  last  chance,"  added  McEwan. 
"You've  got  lots  of  strong  enemies,  and  they  are  swear- 
ing they  mean  to  make  you  stay  here  every  minute  of 
your  term;  I  had  hard  work  to  get  this  order  from 
Grant  to  offer  you." 

Saddened  and  disheartened,  I  arose  and  prepared  to 
return  to  my  cell,  only  answering  Gen.  P.  "I  thank  you, 
Sir,  for  your  friendly  wishes,  and  I  feel  already  that  I 
am  undergoing  a  living  death;  but  as  I  told  Lieut.  Mc- 
Ewan on  the  Bay  Line  Steamer,  I  must  spend  my  best 


180  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

years  here  if  I  can  only  purchase  liberty  at  the  price  of 
treachery." 

"Hold!"  cried  the  officer,  "you  are  nervous  and 
troubled  now;  think  the  matter  over!  Study  your  own 
interests!  You  needn't  betray  your  friends;  just  give 
us  the  names  of  the  leading  Democrats  who  are  members 
of  the  Klan,  and  all  you  know  about  them.  Go  back  to 
your  work  and  think  the  matter  over ;  I  am  going  down 
town  to  see  my  family;  I'll  come  again  at  4  o'clock,  and 
send  for  you." 

I  have  omitted  to  state  that  he  renewed  the  sugges- 
tion of  Congressman  Cobb,  that  if  I  preferred  not  to 
return  to  North  Carolina,  they  had  no  doubt  a  paying 
office  in  one  of  the  Departments  at  Washington  could 
be  gotten  for  me,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

"Though  you  needn't  shrink  from  returning  home," 
quoth  he,  "Because  you  will  deserve,  and  receive  the 
thankful  gratitude  of  thousands  of  the  bone  and  sinew 
of  the  State,  who  will  owe  their  escape  from  prosecution 
to  you.  The  government  only  wants  the  Leaders;  well 
known,  prominent  men  like  Gov.  Bragg,  Jo  Turner, 
Jones,  Durham,  Schenck,  Col.  McAfee,  and  others.  You 
know  who  I  mean.  Give  us  all  you  know  about  them,  and 
you  can  assure  your  friends  that  they  are  safe,"  etc.,  etc. 

I  silently  shook  my  head,  and  turned  away,  feeling 
that  if  the  interview  were  prolonged,  I  must  break  down 
in  unmanly  tears.  The  Hall-Master  (who  was  the  same 
officer  that  spoke  to  me  gently  on  the  day  I  entered  the 
prison,  and  while  in  a  chill)  had  been  posted  at  the  guard 
door,  listening  to  all  the  conversation,  escorted  me  back 
into  the  "Main-Hall,"  and  as  he  banged  the  great  prison 
doors  which  divided  light  from  darkness,  gloom  from 
happiness,  the  prison  from  the  parlor,  whispered  in  my 
ear,  "Get  yourself  out  o3  here  ef  they'll  be  letfn  ye!  Tm 
agoing  to  quit  me-sef  afore  long.  The  ole  man"  (Genl. 
P)  "says  it's  a  hard  place,  but  he  dont  begin  to  know 
how  things  is  worked!  You  get  oufn  here  ef  you  kin!" 

Can  the  reader  imagine  the  effect  of  this  two-hours' 
interview,  coupled  with  Gen.  Pilsbury's  own  warnings 
that  I  should  regret  it,  if  I  did  not  take  advantage  of 
this  last  opportunity  for  affecting  my  release.  No!  no! 


The  Shotwell  Papers  181 

no!  no!  He  cannot  even  conjecture  the  physical  effect 
thereof.  Here  was  1st  Excitement;  My  nerves  strung 
up  in  wild  anticipation  and  anxiety!  2nd,  Pleased  sur- 
prise! 3rd  Painful  perplexity!  4th  Deepening  depres- 
sion, and  despondency  at  the  prospective  results  of  my 
refusal  of  this  offer  sent  me  by  special  messenger  so 
great  a  distance,  and  with  assurances  that  it  was  the  ulti- 
matum. To  the  foregoing  must  be  added  the  reaction 
from  the  enjoyment  of  a  conversation  after  so  long  a 
silence;  the  enjoyment  of  seeing  the  interior  of  the  pri- 
vate mansion,  the  fine  pictures,  books  and  flowers,  and 
above  all  the  sight  of  the  green  fields,  the  beautiful  land- 
scape, the  waving  grove,  the  chirping  birds,  and  the 
pretty  children  at  play!  How  cold,  cheerless,  lonesome, 
stifling,  after  all  this,  seemed  my  two-and-a-half -feet- 
wide  cell  with  its  blank,  whitewashed  walls,  its  hewn 
stone  floor,  its  grated  door,  and  sullen  silence,  save  for 
the  occasional  rattle  of  a  dinner  pan,  as  the  weary  in- 
mates finished  their  scanty  meal!  I  ate  no  dinner:  food 
would  have  choked  me !  Besides,  I  had  obtained  permis- 
sion of  Capt.  P.  to  have  the  use  of  a  pencil  during  the 
half  hour  in  the  cells  at  noon,  and  I  wished  to  make  a 
note  of  my  interview  with  Lieut.  McEwan.  I  wrote  it 
in  stenographic  characters  on  the  margin  of  my  extra 
copy  of  the  "Union  songs"  which  Genl.  P.  had  handed 
me  on  Sabbath  in  the  chapel.  Mention  is  made  of  this 
insignificant  circumstance,  that  the  reader  may  under- 
stand how  I  managed  to  keep  a  journal  without  pen, 
ink,  or  paper.  The  little  book  had  very  broad  margins, 
and  by  learning  to  condense  my  writing  (as  the  recent 
MSS  shows)  I  managed  to  put  a  great  deal  on  every 
page  whenever  I  obtained  leave  to  have  a  pencil  for  half 
an  hour  to  write  a  letter,  etc.,  etc. 

I  must  make  a  confession.  I  was  afraid  of  myself  all 
that  long  afternoon.  It  was  a  steady  battle  hour  after 
hour.  If  the  original  and  Historic  Father  of  all  Tempt- 
ers knows  his  business  he  takes  care  to  set  his  [torn]  afts 
in  motion  at  a  time  when  his  selected  victim  is  alone  and 
forced  to  perform  manual  labor.  It  is  well  known  that 
many  women  enjoy  knitting  and  churning,  and  similar 
monotonous  hard-labor  because  it  facilitates  reveries  of 


182  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

a  personal,  pleasant,  or  aggrieved,  [torn]  all  this  melan- 
choly afternoon,  I  stood  at  my  desk,  surrounded  by  the 
odorous  outcasts  of  every  hue,  nationality,  and  grade  of 
crime,  working  as  hard  as  ever  I  did  in  my  life,  seeking 
thereby  to  divert  my  thoughts  from  the  shameful  things 
told  me  by  McEwan  with  regard  to  the  remarks  of  men 
who,  if  not  my  most  intimate  friends,  were  acquain- 
tances, and  all  aware  that  I  was  suffering  for  the  same 
cause  they  professed  to  uphold  and  advocate ;  seeking  to 
forget  all  my  wrongs  so  vividly  called  by  this  conver- 
sation; yea,  and  fighting  the  wild  suggestions  that 
swarmed  in  my  mind  with  every  picture  of  the  fearful 
future,  to  wit,  for  example,  "Why  remain  here,  drudg- 
ing like  a  slave,  until  a  breakdown  in  health  and  in  mind, 
and  are  turned  loose  to  seek  some  out-of-the-way  corner, 
and  die,  with  a  stigma  on  your  name,  and  not  even  the 
sympathies  of  the  very  men  whom  your  silence  has 
saved!  'Dead,  or  in  Prison;  soon  forgotten!'  says  the  old 
adage,  and  what  made  it  an  adage  but  the  experience 
of  thousands  in  every  generation!  McEwan  says  my 
forbearance  will  do  no  good,  because  the  Government 
has  hundreds  of  trained  detectives  all  over  the  South, 
and  will  soon  know  all,  and  there  is  no  doubt,  as  he  de- 
clares, that  GRANT  means  to  keep  up  his  Ku  Klux 
war  until  after  the  election  in  November  of  next  year, 
and  it  would  be  idle  to  expect  the  release  of  any  one 
until  the  prosecutions  cease ;  they  will  hardly  turn  loose 
us  who  are  already  here  so  long  as  others  are  daily  be- 
ing sent  here.  So  I  must  accept  this  offer,  or  surrender 
all  hope." 

Happily  pride  strengthened  principle  just  as  it  often 
strengthens  courage  when  on  the  bloody  battlefield;  for 
in  answer  to  these  temptations  arose  the  "Better- 
Thought:"  "Were  you  silent  in  former  trials  merely  for 
the  approbation  of  your  acquaintance?  And  will  you 
now,  after  suffering  the  most  shameful  assaults  that  ever 
were  heaped  upon  a  man  and  mainly  in  revenge  for  your 
outspoken  denunciations  of  renegades,  scalawags, 
shirkers,  and  sneaks,  will  you  surrender  your  side  of  the 
question,  and  actually  join  their  ranks  thus  tacitly  sanc- 
tioning all  the  wrongs  that  have  been  done  to  you !  Per- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  183 

ish  the  thought !  Rather  let  me  die,  and  go  out  among  the 
vagabonds  that  are  tumbled  into  the  Potter's  field!" 

Thus  the  hours  wore  on,  and  off;  Then  came  my  first 
scolding  from  him.  Again  the  overseer  appeared  in  front 
of  me ;  I  supposed  he  wanted  me  and  looked.  Instead  of 
summoning  me  to  the  Hall,  as  I,  naturally  enough  ex- 
pected, he  said  gruffly,  "Go  on  with  your  work!  I  didn't 
tell  you  to  stop,  and  look  at  me!  Let's  see  that  shoe! 
What  botchwork!  (examining  my  clumsy  attempt  at 
trimming)  You  mar  more  than  you  make!  Stop!  Take 
your  plane  of!  What's  this?  You've  slashed  this  shoe! 
Now  that's  a  piece  of  pure  carelessness!  Do  you  see  this? 
That  shoe  is  spoiled,  and  by  your  confounded  careless- 
ness! I'll  have  no  more  of  this.  You've  been  shown  to  do 
your  work,  and  you've  got  to  do  it  right  or  I'll  knowi 
the  reason!  Instructor! — look  at  that  shoe!  Gashed  and 
slashed  all  around  the  welt!  Next  time  this  fellow  does 
that  sort  of  work  let  me  know!  There's  no  need  of  it! 
And  I'll  not  have  it!" 

Ah !  that  scolding — memory  must  fade  ere  I  lose  any 
part  of  its  fierce  anguish !  I  know  not  whether  the  over- 
seer was  "set  upon"  me  purposely  by  a  hint  from  the 
authorities,  or  whether  it  was  purely  accidental.  For  a 
long  time  I  believed  the  former;  but  it  may  have  been 
that  the  "fellow"  was  angered  by  my  having  been  kept 
out  of  the  shops  a  couple  of  hours,  or  there  may  have 
been  other  reasons.  Certain  it  is  that  his  abuse  was  en- 
tirely disproportionate  to  the  offense,  as  I  had  only 
'creased'  the  shoe,  a  thing  of  daily  occurrence  with  new 
beginners,  and  easily  remedied  with  a  little  black  paste ; 
though  of  course  somewhat  injurious  to  the  shoe.  The 
wonder  is  considering  the  brief  period  I  had  been  at 
work  that  I  did  not  "slash  and  gash"  every  shoe  I  at- 
tempted to  trim.  Furthermore  this  "crease"  was  as  noth- 
ing compared  with  some  accidental  slips  I  made,  in  after 
days,  burying  half  the  knife  blade  (which  was  sharp 
enough  to  shave  with)  in  the  soft  kid. 

When  the  overseer  ceased  his  tirade  and  withdrew, 
though  still  keeping  his  eye  upon  me,  (as  I  could  very 
plainly  feel  J)  watching  me  like  a  hawk  for  some  sign 
of  a  mutinous  spirit,  so  that  he  might  return  and  "bully" 


184  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

me  again,  I  found  my  forehead  dripping  with  perspira- 
tion resulting  from  the  enforced  subjection  of  my  nerves 
and  feelings  while  the  "fellow"  hectored  me  as  above. 
I  think  the  fact  that  I  had  been  talking  so  long  with 
McEwan  had  made  me  temporarily  oblivious  to  my  situ- 
ation, hence  the  stinging  bitterness  of  this  uncalled  for 
reproof.  Never  did  a  rebuke  happen  more  inoppor- 
tunely. My  mind  was  too  full  of  other  matters  to  grasp 
anything  but  the  rugged  fact  that  I  was  being  abused 
and  calumniated  outside  the  prison,  and  abused  and 
outraged  undeservedly  within;  while  the  effect  was  to 
tempt  me  to  secure  my  freedom  at  any  cost,  and  then 
"run-a-muck"  against  mankind;  like  Ishmael  whose 
hand  was  against  all  men,  and  every  man's  hand  against 
him.  Happily  these  desperate  thoughts  were  not  lasting: 
though  they  had  not  entirely  subsided  when  I  was  sent 
for  at  5  P.  M.  to  go  again  to  the  "office"  to  meet  Lieut. 
McEwan. 

He  declared  that  my  conduct  seemed  unwise  to  the 
extent  of  folly;  that  I  was  sacrificing  half-dozen  of  my 
best  years  to  a  mere  boyish  sentiment;  that  instead  of 
shrinking  from  lending  my  aid  to  the  government,  I 
ought  to  be  ready  and  zealous  to  do  all  I  could,  es- 
pecially as  it  would  relieve  the  masses  of  the  expense  of 
the  scheming  few  who  deserved  no  consideration  from 
any  one,  etc.,  etc.  I  replied  that  I  had  no  idea  to  whom  he 
alluded.  He  then  asked  me  if  I  knew  Plato  Durham, 
Col.  McAfee,  Maj.  Lee,  Maj.  A.  C.  Avery,  David 
Schenk,  Senator  H.  C.  Jones,  F.  N,  Strudwick,  G.  M. 
Whitesides,  and  perhaps  others.  He  had  a  number  of 
names  on  a  sheet  of  paper.  As  he  called  each  name,  he 
asked  me  if  I  knew  them.  Some  I  knew ;  others  I  did  not. 
The  page  of  "legal  cap"  was  almost  entirely  filled  with 
names  of  leading  North  Carolinians.  The  design  fixed 
upon  at  Raleigh  when  he  returned  thither,  was,  I  sup- 
pose, to  get  me  started,  and  when  my  affidavit  was  pre- 
pared, to  add  as  many  of  these  names  as  I  would  swear 
against.  Lieut.  McEwan  being  a  Federal  officer  and 
only  partially  acquainted  in  the  State  was  given  this 
list  to  guide  him  in  case  I  proved  pliable.  I  ran  my  eye 
down  one  page  of  the  names,  and  saw  dozens  that  I 


The  Shotwell  Papers  185 

knew.  Finally  to  get  rid  of  the,  to  me,  distressing  inter- 
view, I  said,  "Lieutenant  it  is  not  worth  while  saying 
any  more :  I  shall  give  you  no  statement  implicating  any 
one,  because  I  know  nothing  to  incriminate  any  one." 
"Don't  you  know  that  Messrs.  Durham,  McAfee, 
Schenk,  Whitesides,  and  others,  are  members  of  the 
Klan?"  he  asked.  "Well,  I  suppose  they  are:  Capt  Dur- 
ham says  so  in  his  Washington  testimony :  and  I  suppose 
none  of  those  gentlemen  will  deny  it"  He  then  changed 
his  tone,  and  began  to  counsel  me  as  a  friend  to  "make  a 
clean  breast"  I  replied  that  I  supposed  I  could  impli- 
cate a  number  of  persons,  but,  as  they  were  equally  in- 
nocent as  myself,  I  could  not  be  so  base  as  to  get  them  in 
trouble  to  get  myself  out.  McE. — "Do  you  suppose 
your  friends  would  do  as  much  for  you?  They  did  not 
stand  by  you;  they  allowed  you  to  lie  in  jail  among  the 
negroes  and  vagabonds  rather  than  go  your  bail;  they 
were  afraid  to  show  you  any  sympathy ;  and  they  would 
'puke'  on  you  in  an  instant  if  they  could  get  out  of  this 
scrape  by  so  doing."  "I  have  no  doubt" — said  I — "that 
much  of  what  you  say  is  true:  but  as  for  bail — I  never 
tried  to  obtain  security."  McE. — "But  somebody  did, 
for  you,  and  he  could  not  get  even  $3000."  "Be  that  as 
it  may,  (I  never  knew  of  it  before)  the  conduct  of  those 
of  whom  I  expected  better  things  does  not  relieve  me 
from  the  oath  of  the  Order."  McE— "The  Klan  has 
been  broken  up,  disorganized,  dissolved;  you  need  not 
be  restrained  by  an  oath  to  a  thing  which  has  ceased  to 
exist."  "But  we  were  sworn  never  to  reveal  the  secrets, 
etc.,  and  although  the  body  to  which  I  belonged  may  be 
scattered,  the  Order  still  exists.  I  wish  it  did  not,  the  day 
of  its  usefulness  is  over;  and  reckless  men  may  now 
make  worse,  what  is  already  bad  enough."  Genl.  Pils- 
bury — "Shotwell,  I  have  no  interest  in  this  matter  ex- 
cept as  between  man  and  man;  but  I'd  advise  you  to 
confess  all,  and  get  yourself  free  from  here;  for  you 
will  find  it  an  hard  life."  "I  am  aware,  Sir,"  answered  I, 
"that  I  am  and  shall  suffer  almost  a  living  death  as  long 
as  I  remain  here;  but  I  shall  never  purchase  liberty  at 
the  price  of  treachery  and  dishonor." 

I  assured  him  there  was  no  use  pressing  me,  I  should 


186  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

sign  no  affidavit,  nor  make  any  statement.  I  told  him 
his  best  plan  was  to  have  me  summoned,  or  put  upon  the 
witness  stand.  Of  course  this  could  not  be  done  without 
setting  me  free ;  and  if  done  would  afford  me  the  eagerly 
longed  for  opportunity  to  tell  my  own  story  before  all 
the  world,  showing  the  villainy  of  which  I  was  the  vic- 
tim, and  setting  forth  the  truth  about  the  Klan. 

"Will  you  tell  all  you  know?"  "I  will  tell  nothing 
until  I  am  put  on  the  witness  stand"  "Will  you  put 
in  writing  that  you  will  do  this?"  "Yes,  I  will  write  just 
what  I  have  told  you." 

He  then  handed  me  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  I  prepared 
the  following  note:  "Capt.  J.  S.  McEwan,  Sir: — You 
will  please  represent  to  the  proper  authorities  that  I  am 
willing  to  appear  against  certain  persons  named  in  a 
memoranda  now  in  your  possession  and  that  if  put  upon 
the  stand,  I  may  make  other  disclosures.  Very  Respflly. 
R.A.S." 

McE.  said  this  was  not  very  explicit,  and  wished  me 
to  promise  to  tell  all  I  knew.  "No,"  said  I,  "put  me  on 
the  witness  stand,  and  you  will  see  how  I  act." 

I  must  confess  I  was  acting  with  some  duplicity  in 
this  matter ;  but  it  was  my  only  method  to  avoid  giving 
offence  to  the  Government;  and  I  desire  nothing  so 
much  as  to  get  on  the  witness  stand.  There  I  can  explain 
mv  connection  with  the  Klan  and  show  how  I  have  been 
wronged  and  slandered;  in  short,  can  vindicate  myself 
from  the  false  appearances  which  may  have  deceived 
even  my  friends. 

Now  would  there  be  any  harm  to  my  friends  in  my 
disclosures  for  I  know  nothing  about  any  one  of  them  to 
implicate  him  in  the  least,  and  what  I  do  know  has  been 
published  time  and  again  by  others,  etc. 

I,  of  course,  did  not  tell  all  this  to  McE.,  but  he  sus- 
pected it,  I  fear;  although  he  promised  to  neglect  no 
means  to  aid  me. 

He  doubtless  saw  what  I  had  in  mind,  and  did  not 
take  kindly  to  the  proposal.  Indeed  he  had  become  quite 
angry  at  my  obstinacy,  as  he  was  pleased  to  term  it ;  and 
made  much  complaint  of  being  "surprised"  at  me,  as 
he  believed  from  my  remarks  that  I  would  do  anything 


The  Shotwell  Papers  187 

he  suggested,  and  now  he  had  been  at  $200.  expense  all 
for  nothing. 

McEwan  then  asked  me  if  I  would  advise  all  the  other 
men,  who  came  with  me,  to  confess.  "Certainly,"  said  I, 
"if  it  will  get  them  out  of  here."  I  knew  of  course  that 
nothing  they  could  tell  would  implicate  any  one,  as  we 
had  conversed  on  the  subject  previously. 

He  also  advised  me  to  write  at  once  to  the  Attorney- 
Genl.  etc.,  etc.  Capt.  P.  promises  to  give  me  paper  next 
Sunday.  I  feel  ashamed  of  myself  for  bending  in  the 
least  to  the  pressure :  but  one  thing  I  swear  that  if  I  suc- 
ceed, and  get  on  the  stand,  I  will  make  these  infernal 
Mongrels  rue  the  day  they  placed  me  there ! 

Lieut.  McEwan  then  had  the  other  Klan  prisoners 
sent  for,  and  interrogated  them  briefly  as  to  what  they 
knew  of  the  Order  etc.  Meanwhile  I  slowly  walked  back 
to  my  work  bench  in  the  shops ;  walked  with  folded  arms 
and  down  cast  eyes,  and  trembling  footsteps,  for  all  the 
excitement  of  the  day  was  giving  place  to  depression  at 
the  closing  of  the  door  of  all  hope.  The  sun  was  just 
sinking  in  the  west,  great  clouds  were  piled  high  above 
the  dead  horizon  of  the  prison  wall, — and  the  deepening 
shade  of  the  court-yard  seemed  gloomier  than  ever  by 
contrast  with  the  crimson  flush  of  all  the  cloud-peaks 
and  towers.  Glad,  indeed,  was  I  to  meet  the  head  of  the 
"centipede"  marching  in  from  the  workshops.  In  my 
cell  it  was  lonelier  than  can  be  imagined:  but,  at  least 
there  were  the  comforts  of  rest,  and  of  being  alone, — no 
longer  watched  by  hateful,  fault-finding  eyes. 

Sunday  Morning,  October  22nd.  Shortly  after 
dawn  a  shadow  flitted  past  my  cell  door,  and  some- 
thing white  fluttered  through  the  bars  upon  the  flags 
at  my  feet.  It  was  the  Deputy  gliding  from  cell  to 
cell  distributing  the  Sunday  morning  mail  which  had 
accumulated  during  the  week.  My  hands  trembled  until 
they  could  scarcely  pick  up  the  white  missive,  whose 
superscription  was  in  the  well  known  handwriting  of 
my  dear  old  Father — now  I  feared  on  the  verge  of  dis- 
traction. Happily  he  had  sustaining  influences  of  which 
I  took  no  account,  and  this  letter,  while  indescribably 


188  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

sad,  and  saddening,  was  less  incoherent,  and  perturbed, 
than  I  dreaded.  Doubtless  he  sought  to  write  cheerfully 
and  hopefully  with  intent  to  encourage  me.  Yet  no 
words  could  dissipate  the  effect  of  this  messenger  from 
the  South,  breathing  love  and  sympathy,  and  distilling 
the  odors  of  "Home"  amid  the  barren  solitude  of  the 
grave-like  cell. 

An  overwhelming  flood  of  miserable  memories  rushed 
upon  my  mind — and  this  day  has  been  the  blackest  of 
my  life.  Yet  I  replied  to  father's  letter  in  a  cheerful 
tone,  and  he,  I  dare  say,  will  think  me  as  careless  and 
trifling  as  ever. 

Wrote  to  Attorney  Gen  Akerman,  sending  the  letter 
to  McEwan  to  be  forwarded.  I  told  Akerman  that  I 
had  expressed  to  McE.  a  willingness  to  appear  against 
certain  members  of  the  Klan,  in  N.  C,  but  that  on  re- 
flection, I  thought  I  could  be  useful  to  the  Govt,  in  S.  C. 
where  I  had  many  acquaintances.  I  would  therefore  ad- 
vise that  I  be  sent  to  Columbia,  etc.,  etc.  My  object  is 
to  get  down  there  where  a  few  courageous  friends  may 
be  of  service  to  me,  especially  as  the  authorities  will 
suppose  me  resolved  to  puke.  I  told  McE.  to  do  all  he 
could  to  get  me  brought  down  there — where  he  is  at 
present. 

October  30,  '71.  Coming  in  to  our  cells  on  Sunday 
evening  we  find  a  "clean"  (God  save  the  mark!)  shirt, 
stuck  between  the  bars  of  the  door.  I  generally  try  to 
keep  my  person  somewhat  neat ;  but  here,  all  such  things 
as  clean  linen,  collars,  and  cravats  are  'prohibited.  I  have 
no  mirror,  no  hair,  no  beard ;  and,  Great  Heavens !  what 
an  object  I  must  be!  Nobody  could  guess  how  much  I 
am  annoyed,  and  mortified  by  such  trifles  as  these.  I  fear 
I  shall  lose  the  habits  and  very  tastes  of  a  gentleman. 
Surely  no  man  can  stand  this  life  for  six  years,  without 
showing  it  on  his  features,  face,  and  general  appearance. 
Being  obliged  to  keep  your  eyes  on  the  ground,  day 
after  day,  it  will  be  hard  to  keep  from  acquiring  bent 
shoulders,  and  a  downcast,  sheepish  look!  But  not  if  I 
can  help  it! 

On  the  following  Sabbath  (Nov  1st)  my  anxiety  to 
hear  from  home,  and  the  outside  world,  was  so  great 


The  Shotwell  Papers  189 

that  after  tossing  restlessly  nearly  all  night  I  arose  at 
the  first  peep  of  dawn  and  sat  on  the  bed-shelf,  awaiting 
the  coming  of  the  Deputy  with  the  prisoners'  mail. 
He  arranges  the  letters  in  the  order  of  the  cells  so  that 
there  is  not  an  instant's  hesitation  in  the  delivery  as  he 
passes  down  the  long  corridor.  Presently  there  was  the 
least  sound  of  a  foot  fall,  the  doorway  became  darkened, 
and  through  the  bars  fell  four  letters !  Instantly  the  dark 
vault  seemed  flooded  with  beautiful  sunlight!  All  the 
sorrow,  the  hardships,  the  petty  tortures  of  the  past 
night  vanished,  and  were  for  the  moment  wiped  out  of 
existence.  No  one  who  has  not  had  experience  of  close 
confinement,  under  trying  circumstances,  can  form  even 
a  conception  of  the  effect  of  these  letters.  It  was  as  if 
one,  who  had  been  lying  helpless  in  a  dismal  dungeon, 
devoid  of  a  single  ray  of  light,  should  suddenly  find 
himself  free,  and  under  the  broad  glare  of  noonday  sun- 
shine !  Not  that  the  letters  were  from  kith  or  kin,  or  long 
attached  friends;  they  were  all  from  lady  friends  (Miss 
M.  W.  F.,  Miss  R.  L.  D.,  Miss  Alice  H.,  and  Mrs.  H.) . 
whom  I  had  visited  in  a  social  way,  and  who  had  shown 
womanly  sympathy  while  I  was  caged  with  the  thieves 
and  murderers  in  Rutherfordton  jail.  And  it  was  this 
expression  or  remembrance  and  sympathy,  and  the 
"news  from  mine  own  people"  that  stirred  my  long  des- 
ponding and  much  suffering  spirit.  All  the  letters  were 
written  from  the  fullness  of  womanly  kindness  and  pity, 
mixed  with  a  good  deal  of  Southern  indignity  at  the  out- 
rages of  the  Mongrels. 

It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  say  I  forgot  all  about 
breakfast  in  the  perusal  of  these  welcome  but  altogether 
unexpected  messages  from  absent  friends.  Indeed  it  was 
the  happiest  hour  I  have  spent  since  my  arrest  all  the 
letters  were  full  of  kindness  and  sympathy;  and  must 
have  showed  the  officers  here  that  their  prisoner  is  not 
esteemed  a  criminal  by  the  good  people  of  this  country, 
whatever  the  mongrels  may  do  or  say  to  the  contrary. 
Noble  women !  I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  sympathy 
and  cheering  words.  Truly  "words  fitly  spoken  are  like 
apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver." 

It  seems  that  the  young  ladies  of  Rutherfordton  have 


190  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

agreed  to  write  so  that  I  shall  have  one  letter,  at  least, 
every  week;  than  which  arrangement,  nothing  could  be 
more  acceptable  to  me.  But  will  they  do  it,  will  they 
continue  this  plan  for  any  length  of  time?  I  confess  I 
have  many  doubts,  the  very  biggest  kind  of  doubts. 
Nothing  was  ever  kept  up  for  many  days  in  Rutherford- 
ton,  and  if  this  notion  does  not  "play  out"  during  the 
first  month  I  shall  be  greatly  surprised.  Nevertheless, 
ladies,  I  thank  you  for  your  generous  intentions.  Laura 
writes  an  excellent  letter,  and  assures  me  that  my  con- 
duct receives  the  approbation  of  all  the  decent  people 
of  R.  If  this  be  so,  I  can  say,  like  Daniel  Webster,  "I 
still  live." 

Nov.  5th.  It  is  very  annoying  to  have  to  work  in  the 
shops  by  the  side  of  filthy  negroes ;  and  much  more  so, 
to  wash,  and  wipe,  and  drink  after  them!  We  have  no 
basin  in  our  cells;  consequently  cannot  wash  until  we 
go  out  to  the  shops  after  breakfast !  All  drink  out  of  the 
same  bucket,  and  all  wipe  on  the  same  towel  unless  they 
have  one  of  their  own,  (which  I  have  not,  although  I 
have  applied  to  the  officer  to  purchase  one,  or  two  for 
me)  and  very  little  time  is  allowed  for  attention  to  the 
toilet.  Those  dirty  wretches  don't  need  much  for  their 
ablutions.  But  I  have  known  "better  days." 

Nov.  13th,  1871.  Genl.  Pilsbury  came  down  to  my 
cell,  bringing  me  the  Charlotte  Democrat  sent  by  the 
Editor,  W.  J.  Yates,  containing  the  legislative  proceed- 
ings in  the  case  of  Judge  Logan,  who  to  my  delight,  has 
gotten  into  hot  water  at  last.  By  cunning  and  base  in- 
trigue, and  depravity  beyond  description,  he  has  ac- 
quired the  title  of  "Judge"  but  'tis  the  title  only!  And 
he  may  be  stripped  of  that .  The  Committee  of  the  House 
of  Representatives  pronounced  him  ignorant,  arrogant, 
unworthy  of  the  ermine,  and  worthy  of  impeachment! 
"Grown  old  in  villainy;  and  dead  to  grace 
Hell  in  his  heart,  and  Tyburn  in  his  facet" 
Eo  die —  Casually  glancing  over  the  advertisements  in 
the  Democrat,  I  discovered  among  the  marriage  notices, 
—"Miss  M  M  W  to  Frank  Cameron,  etc.— Nov.  7th 
'71"!!  and  Oh!  How  sad  has  this  day  been  to  me!  Not 


The  Shotwell  Papers  191 

that  I  regret  that  my  amiable  and  elegant  friend  is  hap- 
pily married  to  the  man  of  her  choice ;  but  the  announce- 
ment recalls  many  a  moonlight  promenade,  many  an 
hour,  passed  on  an  ocean  shore,  listening  perhaps,  to 
what  the  "wild  waves  were  saying,"  and  drawing  pic- 
tures of  the  beautiful  future !  Bah !  One  of  the  parties  is 
married — the  other  in  the  Penitentiary!  And  thus  the 
world  goes  round — round — round;  and  thus  the  world 
goes  round. 

"Leaf  by  leaf,  the  roses  fall — drop  by  drop  the 
Springs  run  dry 
One  by  one,  beyond  recall — Summer  fancies 
fade  and  die!" — Selah! 

Nov.  30th.  Have  just  had  the  gratification  of  re- 
ceiving a  kind  note  from  Genl.  C.  Leventhorpe  who  is 
now  with  his  lady  at  Patterson,  Caldwell  Co.  N.  C.  He 
assures  me  of  his  kind  interest,  and  earnestly  prays  for 
my  speedy  liberation  and  restoration  to  my  home  and 
friends.  Sympathy  from  such  a  source  is  doubly  com- 
forting, since  the  Genl.  is  not  a  man  to  favor  an  unde- 
serving object.  Oh,  that  I  could  show  him  in  return 
some  sense  of  the  appreciation  I  feel  for  his  straight- 
forward, genial  letter.  Let  me  preserve  the  respect  and 
esteem  of  the  intelligent  and  honorable  class  of  our  peo- 
ple and  to  care  not  how  much  the  Mongrels  may  abuse 
and  slander  me.  Leventhorpe  is  one  of  Nature's  noble- 
men, a  knight  sans  peur,  sans  reproche  if  ever  there  was 
one.  Strange  that  I  should  never  have  more  intimately 
cultivated  his  acquaintance.  But  this  is  one  of  the  les- 
sons of  my  recent  sad  experience  that  by  my  carelessness, 
levity,  and  intemperate  habits,  I  have  lost  the  society  of 
more  than  one  truly  noble  friend;  and  have  lost  oppor- 
tunities for  attaching  to  me  the  personal  esteem  of  oth- 
ers, whose  support  would  have  been  invaluable,  to  me 
under  present  circumstances.  But  these  regrets  belong 
to  the  category  of  spilled  milk! — let  us  do  better  in 
future ! 

December  13th.  This  day  twenty-seven  years  ago, 
a  very  unlucky  event  happened  to  me — I  was  born!  I 
celebrated  the  occasion  by  doing  15  pairs  of  shoes  which 


192  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

is  considered  a  fair  day's  work,  for  so  green  a  hand  as 
I.  But  for  all  I  worked  hard,  I  could  not  fatigue  the 
little  demon  of  Thought,  which  from  morning  till  night 
racked  my  heart  with  bitter  memories,  of  gloomy  fore- 
bodings. This  day  nine  years  ago  I  was  celebrating  my 
birthday  by  killing  Yankees,  on  the  plain  near  Fred- 
ericksburg, and  today  I  am  making  shoes  for  the  sur- 
vivors !  And  with  six  similar,  sorrowful  anniversaries  to 
pass  within  these  walls.  What  a  Prospect!  What  a  Pres- 
ent !  I  feel  sick — tired — cynical.  Why  was  not  infanticide 
more  popular  twenty-seven  years  ago?  Oh,  that  some 
second  Herod  had  played  havoc  among  the  infants  of 
West  Virginia,  a  double  dozen  or  so  years  ago!  Better 
had  one  died  young,  like  those  whom  the  Gods  love,  than 
toil  painfully  up  the  hill  of  life,  until  one  has  gathered  a 
back-load  of  sorrows,  which  finally  tumbles  us  into  the 
grave !  And  yet  how  wonderfully  do  we  cling  to  our  foul 
breath.  Sometimes  I  agree  with  the  Frenchman,  whose 
philosophy  ran  thus — if  the  house  is  not  full  of  smoke, 
let  us  try  to  put  up  with  it ;  but  if  it  becomes  unendur- 
able, we  know  the  way  to  the  door!  But,  perhaps,  a  wiser 
philosophy  is  that  taught  by  Tennyson  in  his  "Two 
Voices" — 

"Thou  art  so  full  of  misery 
Were  not  it  better  not  to  be?" 

Then  the  bright  answer, — 

"The  little  whisper — silver  clear 
The  murmur, — Be  of  better  cheer!" 

Twenty  seven  years  ago,  today,  happened  the  great- 
est of  all  the  misfortunes  of  my  life! — My  Birth! 
Twenty  seven  Birth-Days  stand  like  memoric  mile- 
stones across  the  plain  of  life,  showing  the  strange  vicis- 
situdes of  the  wanderer!  Scarcely  any  two  of  those  an- 
niversaries are  alike.  The  first  five  passed  in  the  old  Vir- 
ginia Homestead  under  a  mother's  loving  care.  Half  a 
dozen  of  them  succeed  in  the  same  place,  but  under  the 
rigid  discipline  of  a  maiden  aunt,  who  for  some  reason 
never  liked  me,  and  whom  I  suppose  I  gave  no  reason  to 
change  her  opinion  of  me.  Then  came  four  years  in  Cen- 
tral Pennsylvania,  in  two  of  the  loveliest  valleys  on 


The  Shotwell  Papers  193 

Earth's  surface,  and  my  school  days!  Sugar  and  salt 
mixed! 

December  13  I860,  I  spent  visiting  my  school  mate's 
family  in  Phila.,  where  I  frequently  met  the  widow  and 
daughter  of  the  lamented  Iturbide  of  Mexico.  So  this, 
my  sixteenth  birthday,  was  chiefly  notable  from  the  cir- 
cumstance that  I  played  several  games  of  chess  with  the 
Princess,  daughter  of  a  murdered  Emperor. 

December  13th  1861,  I  stood  all  the  day  on  a  lonely 
hillside  almost  within  sight  of  the  rotunda  of  the  Federal 
Capitol;  stood  on  picket  post  in  snow  above  my  ankles, 
and  without  any  shelter  except  a  very  thin,  wet  blanket, 
wrapped  loosely  (so  that  I  could  handle  my  musket  in- 
stantly if  shot  at)  and  a  small  sapling,  not  as  thick  as 
my  body. 

December  13th  1862,  found  me  exposed  from  dawn 
till  dusk  to  the  deadly  fire  of  two  guns,  and  the  terrific 
successive  charges  of  Burnside's  columns  near  the  foot 
of  Marye's  Hill  in  the  Valley  of  Fredericksburg. 
"Strange  if  I  should  fall  on  the  very  day  of  my  birth," 
I  thought,  after  seeing  man  after  man  of  my  comrades 
close  their  career. 

December  13th  186b,  I  lay  shivering  under  a  single 
blanket  in  the  flimsy  barracks  of  Fort  Delaware  Prison 
Pen.  For  food  we  had  three  small  crackers  ("hard 
tack")  and  a  bit  (bite)  of  rusty  bacon,  which  only  a 
famished  stomach  could  hold.  For  bedding  only  a  single 
blanket  per  man — though  the  single  stove  in  the  center 
of  the  long  "barn"  gave  no  perceptible  warmth  ten  feet 
from  it.  All  the  barracks  contained  small  pox  cases,  and 
one  poor  fellow  died  with  the  loathsome  disease  directly 
over  me,  he  occupying  the  "top  bunk,"  and  I  the  "mid- 
dle" one!  No  pleasure  in  that  birthday,  surely!  Decem- 
ber 13th  1865-'6  were  passed  in  Newbern. 

Dec,  25.  My  fingers  are  almost  too  numb  with  cold 
to  make  this  note  (which  I  do  with  my  new  plumbage 
pencil)  but  when  I  think  that  all  over  the  South  my 
friends  are  making  a  holiday  of  this  day,  I  feel  that  I  am 
entitled  to  chronicle  the  fact  that  I  have  worked  hard, 
trimming  fifty  pairs  of  shoes,  and  instantly  choking 


194  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

down  every  incipient  thought  of  repining  or  bitterness, 
resolved  since  I  am  cruelly  forced  to  drudge  like  a  slave 
(yea  worse  than  a  slave,  for  he  has  numerous  holidays) 
and  among  the  brutal  outcasts  of  creation,  I  at  least, 
shall  not  permit  myself  to  be  still  further  injured  and 
lowered  by  yielding  to  vain  regrets  and  moodiness. 

Christmas ! — without  the  gift.  I  had  somehow  formed 
the  idea  that  people  did  not  work  on  an  holyday;  but  I 
discovered  my  mistake  when  called  upon  to  trudge  out 
to  the  shops,  and  make  shoes  on  this  eighteen  hundred, 
and  seventy  first  birthday  of  our  Lord.  Truly  it  is  an 
hard  experience!  Santa  Claus!  Santa  Claus!  when  thou 
was  distributing  gifts,  why  gavest  thou  not  liberty  to 
me !  Perhaps  my  stockings  were  too  dirty,  but  they  were 
the  only  ones  I  have,  and  one  cant  go  barefooted  in  these 
polar  regions. 

I  have  already  suffered  intensely  from  the  cold,  and  I 
am  full  of  dread  of  sickness  arising  from  cold.  We  turn 
out  in  the  frosty  air  three  times  a  day ;  and,  leaving  the 
heated  shops,  with  no  covering  for  our  hands  or  ears,  are 
chilled  through  in  the  brief  period  during  which  we  are 
exposed. 

Naturally  at  such  a  season  one's  thoughts  recur  to 
happier  scenes — the  festive  occasions  of  the  past.  It 
would  be  strange  if  sadness  and  depression  were  not  ever 
present  to  one  in  my  situation.  And  yet  I  am  more  cheer- 
ful than  I  have  been  for  many  days.  The  crisp,  sharp 
atmosphere  has  something  to  do  with  it  I  suppose. 

January  1st.  1872.  The  New  Year  opens  with  the 
thermometer  5000  ft  below  zero!  It  is  so  cold  there  is 
no  use  of  talking  about  it.  I  am  crammed  with  cold,  ears 
frozen,  nose  like  an  icicle,  and  hands  covered  with  chill- 
blains ;  of  which  I  never  so  much  as  heard  before  I  came 
here.  I  wonder  if  there  are  any  Esquimaux  hereabouts? 
It  is  a  shame  to  send  Southern  men  to  this  abominable 
climate. 

Today  we  worked  all  day  as  usual.  What  an  miserable 
holiday  is  this! 

Jan.  2nd — 1872.  Genl.  P.  having  wished  me  to  take 
a  class  in  the  Night  School  he  has  opened  for  the  benefit 


The  Shotwell  Papers  195 

of  the  prisoners,  I  went  up  to  the  school  room  last  eve- 
ning and  was  given  a  class  in  mathematics.  The  school  is 
held  on  Monday  and  Thursday  evenings,  and  all  who 
desire  it,  and  whose  conduct  is  exemplary,  are  permitted 
to  attend.  The  Chaplain  acts  as  superintendent,  and  in- 
telligent convicts  are  the  teachers ;  reading,  writing,  and 
arithmetic,  comprising  the  present  course.  The  room  is 
a  large  one  in  the  attic,  or  French  roof  of  the  Male 
Wing,  and  is  neatly  furnished  with  desks,  seats,  etc.,  of 
the  best  pattern,  with  numerous  gas  jets  to  give  light. 
All  the  guards  and  overseers  occupy  armed  chairs 
around  the  walls  to  see  that  the  prisoners  have  no  inter- 
course, except  with  their  teachers,  who  are  supposed  to 
be  reliable  men.  The  session  durates  about  one  and  an 
half  hour.  Teachers  receive  a  biscuit  and  a  slice  of  ham 
on  School  nights  as  their  salary! 

Wonder  what  my  friends  would  think  if  they  saw  me 
teaching  a  class  of  convicts,  several  of  them  vicious  look- 
ing negroes?  I  believe  it  is  the  Radical  theory  that  the 
Ku  Klux  prefer  to  kill  a  darkey  than  to  eat.  What  a 
poor  Ku  Klux  I  must  be! 

The  establishment  of  this  school  for  the  improvement 
of  the  wretched  creatures  brought  here  from  year  to 
year,  marks  an  advanced  stage  in  the  march  of  Prison 
Reform;  and  reflects  credit  on  the  philanthropic  and 
enlightened  views  of  the  Superintendent,  who  permits, 
if  he  does  not  expect  much  from  the  school. 

Coming  into  my  cell  at  6  P.  M.,  I  found  to  my  sur- 
prise and  delight  a  good  size  box  from  home !  Christmas 
had  come  at  last !  But  better  still  was  it  to  find  that  more 
than  one  friendly  heart  had  remembered  me;  and  sent 
tokens  of  esteem  and  sympathy  to  cheer  me  in  my  dis- 
tant prison.  Mrs.  Capt.  Clark  sends  a  mammoth  frosted 
Fruit-Cake,  Mrs.  Young  a  fine  jar  of  peaches.  Jennie, 
my  sweet  sister,  a  variety  of  little  useful  articles  for  the 
toilet;  and  Miss  Mattie  R.  Miller,  a  pair  of  beautiful 
slipper  patterns  in  crimson  velvet,  and  white  tippet,  and 
a  neat  needle  book,  with  scissors,  thread,  thimble,  but- 
tons, etc.  Moreover  she  sends  a  pair  of  gloves,  which  are 
more  useful  to  me  than  anything  else  just  at  present. 
Altogether,  'tis  a  rich  treat,  and  I  am  sure  I  appreciate 


196  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  kindness  of  the  donors.  I  wish  they  were  aware  of  my 
thoughts  this  night.  It  is  cold  and  dreary  beyond  descrip- 
tion, outside;  but  the  good  cheer  in  my  heart  lights  up 
my  bleak  cell  with  a  pleasant  look,  and  the  fragrance 
of  "good  things"  from  home  makes  me  forget  that  there 
is  sitting  at  my  door  a  pan  of  cold  mush,  which  I  in- 
tended to  have  eaten  for  supper.  Mine  friends,  one  and 
all,  I  wish  ye  an  abundance  of  happiness !  Father  writes 
that  he  has  sent  a  number  of  newspapers  as  wrappers  in 
the  box;  but  I  was  not  permitted  to  have  them,  which 
was  very  provoking,  for  it  would  have  afforded  me  many 
an  hour's  pleasure  to  peruse  these  papers,  no  matter  how 
stale  they  might  be.  Nothing  can  be  old  to  a  man  who 
never  sees  anything  new.  No  one  can  tell  how  much  I 
long  for  the  news  of  the  day — intelligence  of  how  the 
world  wags.  But  when  one  is  in  Rome  he  must  do  as  the 
Romans — wish  him  to  do. 

January  4th  1872.  The  Captain  fetched  me  a  letter 
from  father,  containing  the  following  paragraphs  from 
the  Era,  the  Radical  Organ  at  Raleigh. 

"We  learn  from  reliable  authority  that  Randolph  A. 
Shotwell  confessed  before  he  entered  the  walls  of  Al- 
bany Penitentiary,  and  intimated  that  he  could  make 
revelations  which  would  startle  the  public  as  there  are 
(or  were)  men  belonging  to  the  Klan,  not  now,  even  sus- 
picioned.  We  look  at  no  distant  day  for  this  young  man 
Shotwell  to  'puke,'  and  'make  a  clean  breast.'  " — Era 
Oct.  31st. 

Again 

"We  understand  that  R.  A.  Shotwell  will  be  here  dur- 
ing the  sessions  of  the  U.  S.  Court  to  make  startling 
revelations.  Somebody  will  be  hurt" — Nov.  28th. 

The  phrase  "make  a  clean  breast"  shows  the  author 
of  these  lies;  McEwan  constantly  urged  me  to  make  a 
clean  breast ;  and  he  was  the  only  man  who  knew  of  my 
proposal  to  appear  as  a  witness.  I  now  see  the  folly  of 
my  attempt  to  get  on  the  stand !  The  Mongrels  know  me 
too  well  to  believe  me  willing  to  fall  into  their  designs ; 
therefore  they  take  advantage  of  my  off er  to  McEwan, 
to  misrepresent  me  and  damage  my  reputation  among 
my  friends.  I  confess  I  expected  this  from  the  hour  I 


The  Shotwell  Papers  197 

consented  to  appear  as  a  witness ;  but  it  seemed  the  only 
chance  to  get  into  a  position  where  I  could  publicly  vin- 
dicate myself,  and  confound  my  enemies,  and  for  this 
reason,  I  parleyed  with  conscience  so  far  as  to  pretend 
a  willingness  to  serve  the  wicked  persecutors.  It  was  a 
fault,  and  I  am  sorry  for  it. 

Fortunately  my  friends  give  me  credit  for  too  much 
honor  to  turn  traitor,  and  the  Shelby  Banner,  of  Dec. 
2d.  boldly  crushes  the  floating  lie. 

We  are  authorized  to  state  that  the  report  that 
Capt.  Shotwell  has  confessed  and  implicated  his 
friends  in  crime,  or  will  do  so,  is  without  the  shadow 
of  foundation.  All  the  gold  and  allurements  of  Rad- 
icalism cannot  tempt  this  brave  man  to  perjure  him- 
self, and  swear  against  his  friends.  We  had  rather 
be  Capt.  R.  A.  Shotwell  in  the  Albany  Prison,  than 
Todd  R.  Caldwell,  George  Logan,  or  Bait  Carpen- 
ter, in  the  positions  they  occupy.  Well  may  his 
friends  be  proud  of  him.  The  report  that  the  other 
prisoners  sent  to  Albany  with  Capt.  Shotwell  have 
joined  the  Regular  Army  is  also  false. 

Much  obliged,  Friend  of  the  Banner,  for  your  defence 
of  my  reputation!  Nor  is  your  confidence  in  me  un- 
founded. Under  no  circumstance  would  I  break  my 
plighted  faith  with  even  the  least  of  my  acquaintance. 
The  above  sounds  like  Durham's  hand  writing;  there  is 
one  man  who  is  not  afraid  to  avow  his  principles.  But 
men  of  that  class  are  rare  nowadays.  The  Vindicator, 
also  notices  the  Era's  remarks,  and  with  more  than  usual 
spirit,  replies: — 

The  above  extracts  have  no  foundation  in  fact, 
and  only  exhibit  the  meanness  of  striking  a  defence- 
less man.  Capt.  Shotwell  was  offered  his  liberty  on 
condition  of  his  making  revelations,  but  he  treated 
the  proposition  with  merited  scorn,  saying  he  would 
spend  his  last  moment  in  prison  before  he  would 
perjure  himself  or  swear  against  his  friends.  It  is 
bad  enough  to  seek  the  injury  of  a  free  man,  but  to 
strike  a  defenceless  one  is  despicable. 

This  don't  sound  like  Maj.  Erwin,  and  I  am  at  a  loss 


198  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

to  think  who  could  have  written  it.  By  the  way  it  is 
curious  that,  while  I  have  started  no  less  than  three  of 
the  newspapers  now  published  in  N.  C,  I  have  not  had 
a  word  in  my  defense  from  any  of  them  before  this  ar- 
ticle; although  other  newspapers  have  spoken  freely  in 
my  favor.  How  different  would  have  been  my  conduct  if 
I  had  been  in  charge  of  either  of  them,  when  such  perse- 
cutions were  going  on  as  that  from  which  I  suffer !  But 
the  times  are  given  over  to  selfishness  and  meanness. 

The  Charlotte  Democrat  also  has  a  fling  at  the  Era: 

In  regard  to  the  Era's  allusions  to  Mr.  Shot- 
well  we  will  say  that  it  was  reported  some  time 
ago  that  he  would  be  pardoned  if  he  would  make 
revelations  of  men  connected  with  the  Klan,  or  who 
participated  in  its  depredations.  We  do  not  believe 
Mr.  Shotwell  would  do  anything  of  that  sort  even 
to  obtain  his  release  from  the  Penitentiary. 

Perfectly  correct,  friend  Yates !  I  might  have  escaped 
from  coming  here  by  acting  in  that  style ;  but  I  said  then, 
and  I  stick  to  it,  that  I  shall  stay  in  prison  until  I  grew 
gray  before  I  would  dishonor  myself  in  such  manner. 
I  have  read  somewhere  a  letter  written  by  Count  De- 
Beauharnais,  while  in  the  Bastile,  a  few  days  before  his 
execution,  in  which  he  says,  (language  to  that  effect) 
"When  we  are  unable  to  make  a  successful  resistance  to 
Despotism,  there  is  but  one  possibility  of  resistance, 
namely,  to  receive  its  inflictions  with  a  virtue  which 
shall  cover  it  with  dishonor.  Those  who  come  after  us 
will  at  least  profit  by  our  example,  and  the  legacy  of 
the  proscribed  will  not  be  lost  to  humanity." 

Let  honor  be  the  spring  of  all  my  actions, 
Not  interest,  nor  gain.  Let  no  selfish  views 
Beach  safety  at  the  price  of  truth  and  justice! 
Jan,  5th.     Called  to  the  office,  where  I  found  brother 
Mel.  in  good  health,  spirits,  and  clothes.  He  greeted  me 
so  affectionately  that  I  could  not  but  wonder  at  it,  see- 
ing that  we  have  been  so  long  separated,  and  so  rarely 
agreed  when  together.  Yet  his  heart  can  be  no  warmer 
than  my  own;  and  now  that  he  has  come  and  gone,  I 
feel  indescribably  gloomy.  But  something  of  this  is  due 
to  the  brief  glimpse  of  the  outside  world,  I  had  while 


The  Shotwell  Papers  199 

talking  with  him.  Indeed  it  is  quite  an  event  to  be  called 
out  to  the  office ;  for,  after  going  for  month  after  month 
without  a  word  to  any  one,  and  scarcely  a  look  except  at 
the  sloppy  walks,  or  the  everlasting  piles  of  shoes  on 
your  bench,  it  is  a  wonderful  change  to  enter  the  office, 
where  all  is  clean,  warm,  and  comfortable,  soft  carpets, 
cushioned  chairs,  neat  furniture,  flowers,  paintings,  and 
every  convenience  for  elegant  leisure,  as  well  as  the 
transaction  of  business !  And  then  to  meet  some  familiar 
friend,  to  talk  of  familiar  matters,  to  hear  of  startling 
events,  and  imbibe  some  of  the  cheerfulness  which,  (in 
Bro.  M's.  presence)  is  often  contagious;  all  this  is  like 
coming  up  out  of  some  noxious  pit  to  get  a  breath  of 
fresh  air,  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  beauty  of  the  world ! 
But  how  dark  the  hour  when  one  returns  into  the  pit! 
M.  brought  me  a  number  of  little  articles  for  which  I 
thank  him  much.  Capt.  P.  passed  him  my  letters  without 
looking  at  them,  which  shows  he  can  be  a  gentleman  as 
well  as  a  keeper  of  a  Penitentiary. 

M.  says  my  Yankee  kindred  are  horrified  at — "as  they 
consider  it" — my  disgrace.  Bah!  nobody  hurt!  I  care 
very  little  for  their  good  or  bad  opinion,  notwithstand- 
ing their  wealth.  And  I  should  be  terribly  bored  if  it 
were  necessary  to  write  and  explain  to  them  the  wrongs, 
and  unjust  persecution  I  have  received. 

January  21,  1872.  Lucky  again!  I  have  just  had 
another  substantial  box  from  home  sent  by  my  thought- 
ful and  generous  little  friend  Miss  M.  R.  M.,  assisted 
by  her  sisters  Miss  Mary,  and  Miss  Carrie,  and*  Mrs. 
Capt.  Camp.  These  noble  women  have  constantly 
sought  to  contribute  to  my  comfort  from  the  hour  on 
which  I  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Philistines ;  and  I  must 
be  ungrateful  indeed,  if  I  ever  cease  to  hold  them  in 
grateful  remembrance.  By  all  the  sweet  saints  in 
Mahomet's  Paradise,  I  swear  there  is  no  danger  of  it! 
My  little  friend  guesses  at  my  wants  like  a  prophetess, 
and  is  as  liberal  in  supplying  them  as  if  I  were  a  brother. 
She  has  sent  me  several  articles  for  which  I  had  particu- 
lar need,  and  which  will  relieve  me  of  some  pain.  May 
she  ever  find  friends  to  brighten  and  cheer  her  life! 

January  27th.  Still  they  come!  Twenty- four  citi- 
zens of  S.  C,  charged  with  Ku  Kluxing,  were  brought 


200  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

in  today.  They  are  as  a  general  thing  all  miserably 
poor  and  illiterate — small  farmers,  field  hands,  hired 
laborers,  etc.  S.  G.  Brown,  Esq.,  a  magistrate  of  his 
county  and  Dr.  Thos.  Whiteside,  both  of  York  Dist., 
are  the  principal  persons  among  them.  Hays  Mitchell 
was  the  first  man  tried  in  S.  C;  and  his  lawyers  (Hon. 
A.  H.  Stanbury  and  Hon.  Reverdy  Johnson,  late  Min- 
ister to  England)  received  $15,000  to  defend  him. 
Capt.  John  W.  Mitchell,  chief  of  Klan  is  also  here. 
Many  of  these  men  are  entirely  innocent!  Thus  the 
war  goes  on! 

January  31,  72,  The  last  day  of  Jany.  is  marked 
with  an  "white  stone"  in  the  prisoners'  calendar,  because 
on  that  day  they  get  an  extra  dinner!  The  originator 
of  this  feast  is  a  Mr.  H.  C.  L.  Dorsey  of  Connecticut, 
who  was  at  one  time  confined  here,  and  who  sends  a  cer- 
tain sum  every  year  to  buy  turkeys  or  ham  and  vege- 
tables for  a  Jubilee  dinner  for  the  prisoners.  Today 
the  bill  of  fare  is:  one  pound  boiled  ham,  do.  cabbage, 
do.  Irish  potatoes,  do.  crackers  and  light  bread ;  a  royal 
repast  for  poor  devils  who  dine  from  one  years  end  to 
another  on  a  pan  of  cold  beef  soup,  thickened  with  the 
sour  hash  left  from  breakfast;  or  a  piece  of  "salt  horse" 
and  three  or  four  half  boiled,  and  often  "frosted"  Irish 
potatoes ! 

I  do  not  exaggerate  this  matter,  in  the  least.  It  is 
a  fact  that  for  months  I  have  not  eaten  a  single  meal 
with  relish;  and  commonly  I  do  not  eat  more  than  one 
meal  per  day,  although  at  hard  labor  for  10  hours. 

Undoubtedly  if  I  were  to  complain  to  the  Supt.  about 
our  intolerable  fare  he  would  blow  up  the  cooks;  but  I 
should  certainly  gain  the  ill  will  of  the  officers,  and  be 
exposed  to  every  sort  of  petty  persecution  and  insult. 
Wherefore  it  is  better  to  bear  the  ills  we  have,  than  risk 
a  perpetual  annoyance.  And  so  I  too,  am  glad  that 
Dorsey  opens  his  pockets,  am  glad  to  eat  a  'charity 
dinner  ! 

Colder  than  Iceland! — Monstrously  windy — bleak — 
and  disagreeable ! 

February,  10th.  By  an  accidental  slipping  of  a  keen- 
edged  knife,  I  whittled  off  the  end  of  my  first  finger  on 


The  Shotwell  Papers  201 

my  left  hand.  It  bled  profusely,  and  I  went  to  the  over- 
seer, Rose,  for  some  sticking  plaster.  He  took  an  half 
hour  to  get  it,  although  he  had  only  to  raise  the  lid  of  his 
desk,  and  then  insinuated  that  it  would  be  a  good  excuse 
for  me  to  stop  work,  or  something  to  that  effect.  I 
felt  blind  and  angry  enough  to  take  my  knife  and  give 
him  an  excuse  for  stopping  work!  I  have  never  yet 
missed  a  day  since  I  came  here;  although  often  sick; 
whereas  there  is  not  another  man  in  the  place  who  does 
not  stay  in  his  cell  once  or  twice  a  month. 

But  these  overseers  know  that  I  regard  them  as  my 
inferiors  in  every  respect,  and  like  all  small-souled  peo- 
ple, they  take  a  delight  in  trying  to  humiliate  me.  I 
only  replied  to  Rose  with  a  look,  but  I  did  not  stop  work. 

I  told  the  instructor,  however,  that  he  ought  not  to 
count  me  a  "full  hand"  for  I  had  only  nine  fingers. 

February  11th.  I  am  pained  to  hear  of  the  death  of 
Ex-Gov.  Thomas  Bragg  of  N.  C.  I  had  been  looking 
for  an  answer  to  a  letter  I  sent  him  several  weeks  ago; 
but  today  I  learned  the  reason  of  his  silence! 

Gov.  Bragg  was  no  ordinary  man;  nay,  he  had  few 
equals  among  men.  It  is  his  highest  eulogium  that  al- 
though his  whole  life  has  been  spent  in  public  station, 
not  even  his  enemies  can  pick  a  flaw  in  his  character. 
As  a  lawyer,  legislator,  statesman,  U.  S.  Senator,  Gov- 
ernor of  his  State,  and  Cabinet  Officer  of  the  Confeder- 
ate States,  he  invariably  won  golden  opinions  and  tow- 
ered unassailable,  in  his  private  character.  He  stood 
always  among  the  first,  as  a  man,  as  a  citizen,  as  an 
official,  as  a  philanthropist,  and  as  an  advocate  of  in- 
dividual and  civic  rights.  In  this  last  attitude,  he  won 
my  lasting  esteem  during  the  recent  K.  K.  trials.  Al- 
though suffering  untold  torture  from  physical  infirmi- 
ties, he  sat  for  days  in  the  Capitol,  watching  the  devel- 
opment of  the  Mongrel  schemes  to  deprive  us  of  our 
liberty  and  reputation,  and  then  arose  to  denounce  the 
injustice  and  wrong  which  was  being  perpetrated  under 
the  forms  of  law.  Indeed  I  believe  this  was  his  last 
effort — a  dying  protest  against  Despotism,  and  the 
Pollution  of  the  Judicial  Bench  to  Political  Ends ! 


202  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Noble  old  man!  Well  may  one  of  his  admirers  pro- 
nounce him  a  piece  of  moral  statuary  without  a  blemish. 
His  decease  has  been  mourned  throughout  North  Caro- 
lina. In  Raleigh  business  was  suspended — flags  at  half 
mast — and  both  houses  of  the  General  Assembly  acted 
as  his  funeral  escort. 

"Why  weep  ye  then  for  him  who  having  won 
The  bounds  of  man's  appointed  years — at  last 
Life's  blessings  all  enjoyed — Life's  labors  done 
Serenely  to  his  final  rest  has  passed — 
While  the  soft  memory  of  his  virtues  yet 
Lingers  like  twilight  hues  when  the  sun  is  set." 

From  Bryant's  "Old  Man." 

February  22nd.  Washington's  Birthday — and  also 
brother  Hamilton's.  Of  him  I  have  been  thinking  all 
day — the  last  scene  of  his  life ;  when  he  lay  in  my  arms, 
talking  of  home,  of  his  lovely  wife,  of  his  brave  men,  of 
the  future,  etc. — a  most  sorrowful  reverie.  Strange 
how  a  certain  train  of  thought  sometimes  will  fasten  it- 
self on  the  mind,  and  refuse  to  be  shaken  off;  perhaps, 
though,  it  is  the  result  of  long  brooding,  and  monoton- 
ous confinement.  Often  a  disagreeable  recollection  has 
haunted  me  for  days,  and  let  me  dismiss  it  an  hundred 
times,  'twould  be  in  vain.  Thus  I  fell  a-thinking  of  my 
last  evening  and  day  in  Asheville,  and,  despite  my  ef- 
forts, was  rendered  miserable  for  days  by  it.  Am  I 
becoming  a  monomaniac?  Or  is  it  'bile'  on  the  liver? 
At  all  events  I  must  try,  and  be  more  cheerful,  or  I 
shall  not  endure  six  years  here. 

February  23rd.  Work!  Work!  Work!  Nothing 
but  work  from  dawn  till  dusk,  like  the  unhappy  milliner 
in  Hood's  "Song  of  the  Shirt."  "Work!  Work!  Work! 
my  labor  never  flags.  And  what  are  its  wages  ?  Abed 
of  straw,  a  crust  of  bread,  and  rags.  That  stony  roof, 
this  naked  floor,  a  bucket,  an  iron  chair,  and  a  wall  so 
blank,  my  shadow  I  thank,  for  something  falling  there." 

By  the  way,  it  was  an  excellent  fore-thought  of 
Hood's  in  not  naming  his  verses  "The  Tale  of  a  Shirt"- — 
which  in  reality  it  is — for  such  an  suggestive  title  would 
have  shifted  every  bit  of  pathos  out  of  the  piece. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  203 

But  it  is  no  joking  matter  the  way  we  have  to  work 
nowadays.  I  get  so  tired  that  at  6  o'clock,  when  I  enter 
my  cell,  I  prefer  to  lie  down  and  rest  than  to  eat.  Right 
before  me  in  the  shops  is  a  small  wheel,  which  revolves 
with  great  rapidity  and  is  always  at  it.  This  wheel  has 
whirled  so  incessantly  before  my  eyes  that  I  can  see  it 
plainly  as  I  write  these  lines  in  my  cell.  Will  it  ever, 
ever,  ever,  stop! 

March  4th.  The  weather  is  intolerably  cold.  Men 
say  'tis  the  coldest  winter  they  have  ever  known,  even 
in  this  latitude;  and  surely  it  must  be  the  truth.  The 
thermometer,  I  understand,  is  a  mile  and  a  half  below 
zero,  and  still  falling!  A  few  whiffs  of  the  exterior  air 
would  make  a  frozen  mummy  of  me;  although  these 
Yankees  don't  seem  to  mind  it  much. 

I  have  suffered  outrageously  from  cold  all  winter; 
but  today  it  is  indescribable. 

March  5th — 72.  Genl.  Pilsbury  paused  at  my  door 
and  ejaculated,  "Coldest  I  have  known  in  twenty  years !" 
and  was  gone  before  I  could  thaw  my  tongue  to  reply. 
The  instructor  told  me  that  in  the  morning  the  mercury 
stood  at  22  degrees  below  zero!  Ugh!  it  gives  one  a 
chill  to  think  of  it!  When  Irving  got  up  that  story 
about  Rip  Van  Winkle  snoozing  for  20  years  among  the 
Catskills  he  ought  to  have  appended  the  plausable  ex- 
planation; to-wit,  that  old  Rip,  who  was  full  of  mean 
whiskey,  was  frozen,  and  lay  torpid,  as  snakes  and  toads 
are  known  to  lie,  for  months  or  longer.  I  have  not  yet 
seen  any  weather  warm  enough  (in  this  region)  to  thaw 
a  frozen  man.  That  was  a  wise  remark  of  the  "Auto- 
crat of  the  Breakfast  Table,"  viz:  "A  good  deal,  which 
in  colder  regions  is  ascribed  to  mean  dispositions,  be- 
longs really  to  mean  temperature."  I  confess  the  ex- 
treme cold  makes  me  cross. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  climate  has  a  good  deal  to  do 
with  the  Unionism  and  centralizing  tendencies  of  the 
North.  Here  men  are  obliged  to  make  costly  defences 
against  the  cold;  not  only  for  themselves,  but  for  their 
stock;  and  for  the  housing  of  their  crops.  The  farmer 
needs  a  warm  and  substantial  dwelling,  a  costly  barn, 
out  houses,  etc.,  and  the  mechanic  labors  to  surround 


204  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

himself  with  similar  comforts.  In  fact  the  inclement 
climate  compels  these  people  to  be  more  domestic,  and 
pay  more  attention  to  the  petty  matters  of  the  household 
than  Southerners  who  are  not  under  any  necessity  of 
providing  costly  shelters  for  themselves,  and  their  cattle. 
Now  the  Yankee,  having  two  thirds  of  his  fortune  in 
houses,  barns,  and  other  perishable  property,  is  loth  to 
disturb  the  existing  order  of  things,  lest  riots,  disorders, 
etc.,  shall  endanger  his  goods.  He  knows  that  a  mob, 
or  the  torch  of  an  incendiary,  can  almost  beggar  him  in 
an  hour.  He  sees  that  a  strong  and  established  gov- 
ernment is  the  best  for  him,  no  matter  if  it  is  tyranni- 
cal. He  therefore,  shouts  for  the  Union,  and  permits 
himself  to  be  led  on  to  an  inevitable  monarchy  in  Amer- 
ica. 

Not  so  with  the  Southerner  whose  wealth  lies  in  the 
land,  not  in  the  buildings  on  it.  He  is  not  much  hurt, 
if  you  burn  and  plunder  every  thing  that  he  has  under 
roof ;  in  a  week  he  will  have  up  a  new  log  house,  and  his 
cattle  are  not  supposed  to  know  the  luxury  of  any  sort 
of  shelter. 

Furthermore,  the  Southerner  being  less  occupied  with 
domestic  cares,  has  more  leisure  to  give  to  politics,  is 
more  independent,  more  zealous  of  his  individual,  and 
local  rights.  He  cares  very  little  for  the  Union,  except 
as  a  defensive  arrangement  against  foreign  enemies. 
MORAL:  The  Yankees  are  Unionists  because  it  is  to 
their  advantage  to  be  so.  The  Southerners  are  State's 
Rights  men  because  they  think  themselves  better  than 
the  Yankees  and  are  anxious  to  show,  by  State  lines  that 
they  are  not  a  common  part  of  the  country,  and  on  the 
same  footing  as  the  latter. 

N.  B.  and  my  fingers  are  so  cold  I'll  be  hanged  if  I've 
anything  more  to  say  on  the  subject. 

March  9th,  1872.  Greatly  to  my  surprise,  I  this 
morning  received  the  following  notification: 

"Shelby,  N.  C,  Feb.  23,  1872,  R.  A.  Shotwell, 
Esq.,  U.  S.  Prison,  Albany,  N.  Y. — My  dear  sir; — 
I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that  you  were 
elected  an  Honorary  member  of  the  Philologian 
Society  in  Shelby.  The  Society  begs  to  be  remem- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  205 

bered  to  you.  With  kindest  regards,  Very  truly 
your  Obedt.  Sevt.  A.  C.  Miller,  corresponding 
Sec'y  Society." 

These  Shelby  people  are  not  afraid  to  show  that  they 
are  men,  and  free  men!  They  act  as  if  they  possessed 
some  of  the  blood  that  whipped  Pat  Ferguson  at  King's 
Mountain.  There  are  a  few  at  least  whom  Loyal 
Leagues,  and  Loyal  Legions  cannot  bribe,  purchase, 
nor  terrify.  This  unexpected  honor  is  peculiarly  grate- 
ful to  me  as  an  intimation  that  though  absent  I  am  not 
forgotten;  that  although  confined  in  a  penitentiary  and 
surrounded  by  all  the  marks  of  a  felony,  I  am  not  low- 
ered in  the  opinion  of  those  whose  respect  and  esteem  is 
worth  having.1 

The  Cleveland  Banner  says : 

The  statement  so  industriously  circulated  by  the 
enemies  of  Capt.  R.  A.  Shotwell  that  he  had  turned 
State's  evidence,  and  made  confessions  of  his  guilt 
as  a  Ku  Klux  is  positively  contradicted  by  letter 
from  that  gentleman  of  recent  date.  Having 
wronged  and  attempted  to  ruin  the  character  of 
Capt.  Shotwell  the  villains  thought  by  these  state- 
ments to  lower  him  in  the  estimation  of  respectable 
people.  The  thing  is  past  gentlemen.  Capt.  Shot- 
well  in  the  Albany  Penitentiary  has  the  respect  of 
all  honest  respectable  people.  They  know  that  he 
has  been  grossly  wronged  for  the  basest  political 


1.    Shotwell  sent  the  following  letter  in  reply: 

Albany    Penitentiary, 
March  31st,  1872. 

My  dear  sir: — Your  favor  of  the  23rd  of  February  apprizing  me  of  my  election 
to  Honorary  membership  in  the  Philologian  Society  of  Shelby,  was  duly  received, 
but  owing  to  the  regulations  of  the  Institution  it  was  out  of  my  power  to  give  it 
earlier  attention. 

I  now  beg  that  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  make  my  acknowledgments  to  the 
gentlemen  of  your  society  for  the  unexpected  honor  they  have  been  pleased  to 
bestow  upon  me.  Under  any  circumstances  I  should  have  esteemed  it  a  compli- 
ment to  have  been  chosen  a  member  of  so  intelligent  an  Association,  but  in  my 
present  peculiar  position,  such  a  mark  of  respect  is  the  more  acceptable  to  me  as 
an  intimation  that  the  persecution  and  ignominious  wrong  of  which  I  have  been 
a  victim,  because  of  my  political  opinions,  are  properly  understood  by  the  public, 
and  that  I  am  not  forgotten — although  in  a  distant  prison,  nor  bereft  of  friendly 
sympathy,  although  environed  with  the  attributes  of  Felony.  I  hail  it,  moreover, 
as  a  token  that  there  is  life  in  the  Old  Land  yet;  that  there  are  some  whom 
Loyal  Leagues  and  Loyal  Legions  can  neither  bribe,  purchase,  nor  terrify. 

Brave  old  Cleveland!  Armed  Despotism  may  indeed  hold  her  in  its  grasp,  dis- 
turbing her  tranquillity  and  paralyzing  her  industry,  but  it  shall  seek  in  vain  to 
make  slaves  of  her  sons,  or  to  check  the  patriotic  sympathies  of  her  noble  daugh- 
ters! Methinks  the  spirit  of  1780 — the  spirit  that  animated  the  bold  yeomen,  who, 
mounted  two  on  a  horse,  with  rusty  rifle  and  pockets  full  of  bullets,  galloped 
night  and  day  in  the  wake  of  old  Isaac  Shelby  to  hurl  Pat  Ferguson  and  his 
renegades  from  the  brow  of  King's  Mountain,  still  lives  to  defy  a  similar  and 
no  less  unworthy  combination  of  Foreign  and  Domestic  Treason  in  our  day.  Let 
us  hope — let  all  good  men  see  to  it,  that  the  result  be  as  decisive  and  auspicious 


206  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

purposes.  His  persecutors  from  Judge  Logan 
down  are  vile  contemptible  low-bred  people,  and 
have  the  respect  of  none  but  the  ignorant,  the  cor- 
rupt and  the  vile.  This  is  the  difference,  and  all 
that  these  people  can  do,  or  cause  to  be  done,  can- 
not change  it. — Banner,  Feb.  24th,  1872. 

The  writer  of  the  above — whom  I  take  to  be  P.  D. — 
tells  nothing  but  the  truth.  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea 
of  "confessing" — (having  nothing  to  confess) ,  and  I  am 
sure  I  shall  never  be  guilty  of  perjury  and  bad  faith 
with  my  late  friends. 

I  cannot  but  feel  deeply  stirred,  and  grateful,  for 
these  expressions  of  sympathy  and  respect ;  and  I  begin 
to  hope,  with  brother  and  others,  that  I  may  be  able  to 
turn  the  very  persecutions  of  my  enemies  to  some  good 
end,  when  at  liberty  to  push  my  fortune  in  the  world. 
Thus,  it  would  seem  that,  [Several  lines  are  inked  out.] 

March  16th.  Have  just  had  a  letter  from  Gov.  Z.  B. 
Vance,  as  follows: 

R.  A.  Shotwell,  Dr.  Sir: 

I  received  your  letter.  I  wrote  to  your  father 
about  you,  although  I  suppose  he  hears  from  you 
regularly.  You  need  feel  no  anxiety  in  regard  to  the 
reports  circulating  from  time  to  time  about  you 
here.  If  they  gain  a  moments  credence  when  first 
told,  time  soon  upsets  them.  You  are  not  degraded 


for  the  whole  country.  I  am  not  unaware  that  these,  or  any  allusions  to  our 
political  and  local  trouble  may  be  considered  something  inappropriate  in  a  letter 
addressed  to  a  purely  literary  society.  But  I  think  I  do  not  err  by  assuming  that 
the  young  men  of  Shelby  in  organizing  for  the  benefit  of  self-culture,  have  like- 
wise had  in  view  certain  responsibilities  devolving  upon  them  as  inheritors  of  a 
glorious  personal  and  civil  liberty,  namely,  the  duty  of  upholding  and  maintaining 
those  time  honored  principles  upon  which  the  fabric  of  their  freedom  is  founded. 
In  other  words,  young  gentlemen,  while  it  is  your  aim  to  attain  excellence  and 
skill  in  the  forensic  arts,  you  have  already  dedicated  that  skill  to  the  defence  of 
the  institutions  of  your  forefathers,   now  assailed  on  every  side. 

If  such  be  your  motives,  you  have  not  been  unmindful  of  events  transpiring 
around  you;  nor  have  I  given  offence  by  alluding  to  them.  Grave  responsibilities 
do,  indeed,  devolve  upon  you,  for  it  is  to  her  youth  that  the  South  looks  for 
political  health  and  material  prosperity.  It  is  yours  to  draw  lessons  of  experience 
from  the  past  wherewith  to  inaugurate  a  new  and  radiant  era  for  the  future. 
But  chiefly  it  is  yours,  and  yours  only,  to  demand  and  obtain  for  your  long-suf- 
fering people  that  measure  of  just  equality  in  the  family,  in  the  nation,  without 
which  there  can  be  neither  lasting  peace  nor  fraternity  of  feeling  between  its 
members. 

Allow  me,  therefore,  gentlemen,  to  express  the  hope  that  the  Philologian  Society 
may  flourish,  and  exert  a  wide  influence  for  good,  and  not  only  in  a  moral  and 
educational  sense,  but  also  as  a  medium  for  the  dissemination  of  honest  political 
principles. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  American  people  are  upon  the  point  of  demanding  an 
honest  government.  Such  a  cause  deserves  your  hearty  support.  May  the  right 
prevail. 

With  sentiments  of  respect  and  esteem,  I  am,  gentlemen, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
R.   A.   Shotwell. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  207 

among  your  acquaintance  for  whatever  may  be  the 
crime  of  which  you  are  accused,  it  is  lost  sight  of  in 
the  crowning  infamy  of  your  trial  and  conviction. 
The  disgraceful  and  indecent  spectacle  of  an 
United  States  Judge,  Attorney,  and  Marshal  unit- 
ing to  pack  a  jury  to  convict  a  political  opponent, 
presents  a  crime  for  the  contemplation  of  mankind, 
so  black  and  damning  that  the  trespass  of  which 
you  are  accused  appears  like  angels  raiment  be- 
side it. 

But  regrets  and  denunciations  will  avail  nothing 
now.  I  can  only  advise  you  to  a  ready  submission  to 
all  the  requirements  of  prison  authorities,  and  a 
willing  submission  to  all  the  requirements  of  your 
unpleasant  situation  as  to  the  will  of  God.  Mean- 
time the  content  to  believe  that  the  good  people  of 
N.  C.  will  do  your  reputation  full  justice,  and  will 
appreciate  exactly  the  measure  of  your  guilt,  your 
temptation  and  your  punishment.  Rest  assured, 
too,  that  the  precise  amount  of  censure  which  is 
yours  will  be  visited  upon  you  in  spite  of  your  mis- 
fortunes which  pervert  our  judgments,  and  the  same 
measure  of  sympathy  which  is  your  due,  you  will 
receive  although  you  were  forty  times  in  the  Peni- 
tentiary, and  forty  governments  surrounded  you 
with  the  attributes  of  felony.  In  short  your  reputa- 
tion depends  upon  yourself. 

Very  Truly  your  friend, 
Z.  B.  Vance. 

This  letter  disappoints  and  saddens  me  exceedingly. 
It  shows  that  popular  belief  has  not  been  able  to  resist 
the  persistent  reiteration  of  slanders  against  me,  and 
that  while  people  may  consider  me  a  greatly  wronged 
man ;  they  still  think  me  more  or  less  guilty.  How  absurd 
is  it  for  Gov.  V.  to  say  that  I  shall  receive  full  justice 
from  the  public  when  his  own  letter  shows  that  he  and 
others  of  the  public  have  accepted  the  Radical  lies 
against  me  for  full  truth,  therefore  laying  me  liable  to 
censure ! 


208  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

What  is  the  use  of  telling  me  I  had  a  shameful  and  in- 
decent trial,  and  in  the  next  breath  intimate  that  I  am 
more  or  less  guilty. 

Now  I  ask  no  man's  sympathy  for  my  misfortunes;  I 
want  no  pity.  If  any  one  thinks  I  have  yielded  to  "temp- 
tation" or  committed  "crime,"  he  had  better  bestow  his 
commiseration  upon  somebody  that  needs  it  worse,  and 
will  appreciate  it  higher  than  I.  No  doubt  the  Governor 
meant  to  write  kindly,  but  he  feared  to  say  something 
that  might  get  into  the  papers,  and  so  he  mounts  the 
stilts  of  dignity,  and  moralizes  over  my  injuries  as  if  he 
were  giving  counsel  to  a  murderer  on  the  scaffold.  Of 
course  I  resent  any  such  tone  when  addressed  to  me.  Yet 
this  letter  confirms  some  of  my  saddest  forebodings,  and 
no  day  of  my  prison  life  has  been  more  gloomy  than  this. 

March  21st.  Rec'd  a  long  and  affectionate  letter 
from  Father  containing  an  extract  from  the  Cincinnati 
Enquirer,  calling  upon  the  people  of  the  North  to  call 
mass  meetings,  and  denounce  the  wicked  persecutions 
of  the  Government  under  the  head  of  enforcing  the  Ku 
Klux  Klan.  It  also  states  that  martial  [law]  has  been 
declared  in  9  counties  of  S.  C.  and  that  over  4000  South- 
ern citizens  are  lying  in  jail  awaiting  trial!  This  shows 
how  the  political  crusade,  of  which  I  was  the  first  vic- 
tim, is  gaining  ground. 

Father  says  he  thinks  better  of  me  now — in  prison — 
than  ever  he  did!  How  curiously  tenacious  is  the  affec- 
tion of  a  noble  hearted  man.  The  simile  of  the  oak,  grow- 
ing stronger,  and  reaching  farther,  the  more  it  is  shaken 
by  the  storm,  is  the  aptest  comparison  that  can  be  devised 
to  illustrate  it. 

April  2nd.  Kind  letter  from  Genl.  Leventhorpe, 
who  assures  me  of  the  best  wishes  of  many  friends  in  the 
Valley,  and  gives  me  more  news  than  any  letter  I  have 
had  in  some  time. 

April  3rd.  Whosoever  has  never  felt  the  weariness 
and  disgust  which  a  long  and  monotonous  occupation  at 
physical  labor  is  apt  to  create  in  an  intelligent  mind,  can 
form  no  idea  of  the  pleasure  to  be  derived  from  books, 
the  delights  of  reading.  Suppose  that  all  day  you  have 


The  Shotwell  Papers  209 

been  engaged  in  mechanical  pursuits,  in  which  the  mind 
takes  no  part,  waging  a  war  of  muscle  against  blind 
forces — wood,  iron,  leather,  and  the  like — which  yield 
only  a  passive  resistance.  You  consider  yourself  tired 
out,  you  have  been  chopping  wood  without  seeing  any 
chips  fly.  But  now  you  take  up  a  book,  and  how  charm- 
ingly your  mind  runs  over  the  pages !  The  weariness  of 
the  body  is  forgotten  in  the  sprightliness  of  the  intellect. 
You  read  with  a  freshness  and  zest  which  the  man  of 
sedentary  habits,  never  knows. 

*****  *i 

April  18th.  This  afternoon  brother  Mel.  I  was  de- 
lighted to  see  him,  although  I  am  in  very  low  spirits,  and 
was  rendered  more  so,  by  the  trouble  in  which  he  evi- 
dently is  involved.  He,  however,  was  very  cheerful,  as 
indeed  he  always  is.  I  was  very  glad  to  get  some  reading 
matter;  a  blankbook  which  he  had  been  thoughtful 
enough  to  bring  me.  Best  of  all,  I  am  now  permitted  to 
keep  a  pencil,  and  need  no  longer  steal  opportunities  to 
make  an  hurried  note  of  my  experience.  During  the  in- 
terview with  brother  Mel,  I  had  occasion  to  use  his  pen- 
cil, and  with  singular  forgetfulness,  put  it  into  my 
pocket.  Afterwards  came  the  Deputy,  and  asked  me  for 
it,  but  as  I  promptly  produced  it  he  said,  "Well  you 
may  keep  it;  but  see  that  you  make  good  use  of  it." 

This  privilege  I  cannot  estimate  too  highly ;  for  I  have 
constant  demand  for  a  pencil,  and  it  was  hard  to  use  one 
clandestinely,  starting  every  time  an  officer  passed  the 
cell,  as  if  I  had  been  about  to  steal  something. 

As  for  making  an  improper  use  of  it,  that  I  should 
not  do  if  I  had  a  gross  of  pencils.  I  have  no  desire  in  the 
world  to  correspond  with  my  fellow  prisoners,  unless  it 
be  to  hear  occasionally  from  one  or  two  of  the  more  re- 
spectable of  the  Ku  Klux,  to  learn  what  news  from  the 
South  they  have. 

Bro.  M.  went  up  to  Troy  to  call  upon  some  friends. 
I  am  preparing  a  note  or  two  to  send  my  lady  friends. 

April  19th.  Mel  returned,  came  up  this  afternoon. 
He  had  an  agreeable  visit  in  Troy,  and  is  in  high  spirits. 

1  A  brief  discussion  of  the  value  of  reading  is  omitted. 


210  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

as  usual.  Sent  by  him  notes  to  Miss  R.  L.  D.,  Miss 
M.  F.,  Miss  M.  R.  M.,  Annie  P.,  L.  P.,  Erwin,  and 
father,  also  T.  B.  K.,  Richmd.  Va.  When  he  was  gone, 
I  went  back  to  the  shops — back  to  my  position  between 
two  filthy  negroes — back  to  be  hectored  by  the  overseer 
— back  to  hard  work,  rendered  inconceivably  irksome  by 
the  brief  glimpse  I  had  of  the  outside  world. 

The  drudgery  of  penal  labor  is  (for  one  in  my  situa- 
tion) as  bad  as  a  treadmill.  It  is  dull,  soulless,  spiritless, 
interestless,  toil  without  thought,  without  object,  with- 
out the  least  return!  But  'tis  folly  to  repine.  "Are  these 
things  necessities?  Then  let  us  meet  them  like  necessi- 
ties." 

April  21st.  Kind  letter  from  my  amiable  friends, 
Miss  M.  F.  and  Miss  Alice  H.  The  former  speaks  of 
sending  a  box  soon.  I  wish  I  could  prevent  it  by  going 
after  it.  Both  these  are  full  of  kindness  and  sympathy. 
Alice  H.  as  usual  gives  the  more  news  than  any  one  else. 
Unhappy  Rutherford !  The  Mongrels  still  wage  war  on 
all  decent  people.  W.  S.  Guthrie  has  been  arrested, 
forced  to  give  $3,000  bond,  upon  the  evidence  of  John 
Harrel,  and  others — all  false.  Perhaps  after  while  the 
public  will  begin  to  understand  the  kind  of  testimony 
on  which  I  was  convicted.  It  is  generally  the  way  with 
perjured  informers;  they  carry  their  abominable  false- 
swearing  a  step  too  far,  and  break  down  all  they  have 
accomplished  by  attacking  the  reputation  of  men  whose 
conduct  has  not  made  them  so  vulnerable  as  the  first 
victims.  Thus  Titus  Oates,  after  having  hung  some  doz- 
ens of  good  citizens  of  England  at  last  became  so  bold 
that  even  the  false  hearted  Judges  were  obliged  to  pro- 
nounce him  unworthy  of  belief.  So  the  witnesses  in  the 
negro  plot  in  New  York  City,  after  having  caused  the 
death  of  more  than  a  dozen  innocent  persons,  at  length 
attacked  some  members  of  the  family  of  the  Chief  Jus- 
tice, when  the  whole  thing  fell  to  the  ground.  So  in  the 
Salem  trials  for  witchcraft,  the  witnesses  were  perfectly 
reliable  so  long  as  they  only  hung  or  burned  poor  help- 
less creatures  but  when  they  began  to  accuse  men  of 
wealth  and  influence  their  testimony  was  too  apparent 
to  go  down  even  with  the  blind  populace.  So  during  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  211 

French  Revolution.  And  so  it  will  ever  be.  And  I  am 
glad  of  it;  for  when  the  John  Harrellites  have  been 
proved  to  be,  what  I  know  them  to  be — perjured  foul- 
souled  liars — people  must  see  the  full  farce  of  my  trial 
and  conviction. 

W.  G.  Edgerton  has  been  re-arrested  and  held  in  ad- 
ditional bond  of  $4,000,  charged  with  being  one  of  the 
party  which  released  the  seven  K.  K.  from  Marion  jail. 
If  the  indictment  had  named  him  the  leader  of  it,  it 
would  have  been  nearer  the  truth.  He  is  a  good  fellow, 
and  more  of  a  man  than  many  bipeds.  We  will  make 
these  things  all  right — in  the  morning. 

April  23rd.  I  am  very  blue  in  mind  and  not  well  in 
body.  Day  in  and  day  out  I  suffer  from  the  greatest  de- 
pression of  spirit. 

April  27th.  Another  Saturday  night.  Blessed  Satur- 
day night !  No  one  appreciates  this  hour  as  does  the  me- 
chanical laborer.  In  other  employments  there  is  usually 
something  to  divert  the  mind,  and  give  exercise  to  the 
body ;  but  the  poor  shoemaker,  weaver,  or  factory  hand, 
has  worked  during  the  whole  week  like  a  mere  machine. 
His  hands  and  arms  perform  their  duty  by  sheer  force  of 
habit,  and  the  man  himself  is  little  better  than  an  auto- 
maton, going  through  with  certain  motions  by  clock- 
work. But  on  Saturday  night,  when  he  lays  aside  his 
tools,  the  machine  is  abandoned  and  the  man  appears. 
He  is  now  free  to  attend  to  any  little  matters  of  his  own, 
while  before  him  is  the  prospect  of  a  day's  rest  on  the 
morrow. 

AH  these  feelings  are  intensified  with  the  prisoner 
working  at  penal  labor.  For  him  there  is  not  even  the 
consolation  of  knowing  that  he  is  earning  something  by 
the  sweat  of  his  brow.  There  is  nothing  whatever  to  di- 
rect his  mind.  No  wonder  that  so  many  men  go  crazy. 
No  wonder  that  when  the  whistle  blows  on  Saturday 
evening,  I  fold  my  arms  with  a  sigh  of  relief! 

Beside  on  Saturday  night,  we  are  almost  at  Sunday 
morning,  and  who  knows  but  I  may  get  a  batch  of  cheer- 
ing letters. 

April  28th.  Disappointed  again!  No  letters.  The 
Deputy  passed  my  cell  with  a  handful  of  letters  but  not 


212  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

any  for  me!  It  is  positively  shameful  the  way  I  am 
treated  by  those  who  profess  to  be  my  friends.  Very  well 
gentlemen,  I  will  try  not  to  forget  you.  Someday  we 
may  get  even! 

April  29th.  Capt.  Pilsbury,  having  fetched  me  a 
letter  from  father,  called  attention  to  its  having  been 
opened  by  cutting  off  one  end,  and  re-sealing  with  gum- 
arabic.  This  is  not  the  first  instance  of  the  kind  lately. 
Of  course  the  Mongrels  in  our  Southern  post  offices  are 
the  authors  of  it.  They  can  do  anything,  no  matter  how 
lawless,  or  felonious  in  the  purview  of  the  law,  with  utter 
impunity.  Even  if  detected  in  breaking  open  a  letter, 
they  have  only  to  plead  that  they  were  doing  a  good 
service  for  the  government  by  ascertaining  what  infor- 
mation my  friends  were  sending  me.  But  who  would 
listen  to  the  complaints  of  a  convicted  Ku  Klux  in  the 
Penitentiary  even  if  I  could  prove  that  the  villains  had 
pilfered  my  letters.  The  Govt,  needs  the  political  sup- 
port of  the  Mongrels  and  the  negroes,  and  to  retain  their 
votes,  they  are  permitted  to  do  just  as  they  choose  with 
the  liberty  and  property  of  their  unfortunate  but  less 
obsequious  neighbors.  But  we  live  in  "the  land  of  the 
jree^  etc. 

May  1st.  The  following  is  my  Programme  for  daily 
division  of  the  little  leisure  I  have.  Rise  at  or  before  day- 
light— 10  minutes  for  washing  my  eyes  (pouring  water 
out  of  a  cup ) ,  hanging  up  my  blankets,  getting  ready  to 
go  out  etc.,  etc.  Read  a  few  pages  in  Butler's  "Anal- 
ogy," and  Kerney's  "Compendium  of  History."  Break- 
fast 5%-6:15.  Study  "Harrison  on  English  Language," 
or  Mathematics,  until  7  o'clock.  Work  in  shops  till  12 
M.  Eat  dinner  hastily,  and  read  Library  book  until  1. 
Work  till  sunset.  Read  20  verses  in  Bible,  History  30 
minutes,  and  whatever  light  reading  I  have,  until  it  is 
too  dark  to  see — this  last  in  order  that  I  may  go  to  sleep 
with  agreeable  images  in  my  mind. 

I  have  followed  this  course  for  some  time,  and  find 
that  I  make  some  gains ;  although  the  twilight  is  so  short 
in  this  latitude  that  it  grows  dark  almost  as  soon  as  the 
sun  is  down.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  shops  get  an  unfair 
portion  of  my  time.  But  the  shops  are  "run"  by  "Yan- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  213 

kees,"  and  Yankees  "carnt"  see  any  use  in  allowing 
"convicts"  to  study,  etc. 

May  2nd. 

May  3rd,  1872.  Genl.  Pilsbury  came  into  the  shops 
and  calling  me  to  the  overseer's  desk,  asked  how  I  was 
getting  on,  whether  he  could  do  anything  for  me,  etc. 
Said  I  must  keep  cheerful,  and  try  to  make  the  best  of 
circumstances.  That  he  would  be  glad  to  show  me  any 
kindness  in  his  power. 

I  thanked  him,  and  assured  him  I  was  "accepting 
the  situation"  with  as  good  grace,  as  human  nature 
would  permit  of  any  man's  doing. 

Strange  power  of  a  civil  word!  After  this  little  chat 
I  returned  to  my  work  bench  cheered  and  invigorated 
almost  as  if  I  had  a  promise  of  release,  because  I  felt 
that  here  was  an  utter  stranger,  and  one  who  from  long 
experience  in  the  management  of  criminals  must  be  dis- 
posed to  distrust  all  who  are  placed  in  his  charge,  this 
gentleman,  I  say,  I  felt  to  be  both  interested  in  me,  and 
satisfied  of  my  innocence.  And  less  than  this  might  com- 
fort me  in  my  present  distressed  and  broken  condition. 

In  truth  none  are  so  grateful  for  small  favors  as  pris- 
oners. Many  men  have  found  sincere  attachment  for 
their  jailors  merely  in  return  for  trifling  benefits,  al- 
though there  may  have  been  great  disparity  in  rank, 
breeding,  morals,  and  every  other  particular  between 
the  parties.  I  recollect  a  remark  of  Casanova,  who  when 
shut  up  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Inquisition  at  Venice,  re- 
ceived a  present  of  one  or  two  articles  of  clothing,  a  pen- 
cil, some  paper,  etc.,  from  a  nobleman  in  the  city,  "in 
the  fulness  of  my  heart"  said  he,  "I  pardoned  my  op- 
pressors; indeed  I  was  nearly  induced  to  give  up  all 
thoughts  of  escaping;  so  pliant  is  man  after  misery  has 
bowed  him  down,  and  degraded  him/3 

My  experience  corroborates  his;  I  have  been  aston- 
ished at  the  cheerfulness  created,  perchance  when  I  was 
in  the  gloomiest  mood,  by  a  friendly  letter,  or  a  cour- 
teous word  from  those  whom  fraud,  violence  and  injus- 
tice have  made  my  custodians. 

This  day  should  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  brightest 
and  saddest  in  Southern  history.  For  on  this  day  nine 


214  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

years  ago  was  fought  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville — the 
acme  of  Southern  triumph — the  turning  point  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  Confederacy.  The  blaze  of  this  victory 
died  out  under  the  funeral  pall  of  Stonewall  Jackson, 
slain  by  the  untimely  vigilance  of  his  own  men,  and  from 
that  hour  a  sombre  shadow  spread  over  our  Southern 
land,  each  day  darker  and  darker  until  finally  came 
night — ruin — and  Appomatox.  It  was  not  that  Jack- 
son was  an  irreparable  loss  to  the  army,  since  his  forte 
lay  in  the  execution,  not  in  the  conception  of  great 
maneuvers,  and  Lee  still  lived  to  direct  the  campaign 
while  many  trained  soldiers  were  ready  to  take  up  Stone- 
wall's sword.  But  the  country,  and  the  army,  loved  Jack- 
son, and  when  he  fell,  all  minds  received  a  cruel  shock, 
resulting  in  more  serious  foreboding.  People  began  to 
talk  in  this  wise : 

"Well  Sir;  We've  whipped  them  again:  we  drove 
them  back  to  their  holes,  Sir ;  we  always  do  it.  But  what 
good  does  it  do?  They  have  all  Europe,  Asia,  and  Af- 
rica ;  besides  the  Indians,  and  our  slaves,  to  fill  up  their 
armies — and  so  they  get  up,  and  come  again.  Whereas 
we,  why,  the  fact  is  we  have  nobody  to  draft.  We  have 
already  robbed  the  cradle  and  the  grave,  and  there  is 
scarcely  a  man  in  the  country  to  make  crops  for  the  sup- 
port of  our  women  and  children,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
soldiers.  Now  in  such  a  state  of  affairs  every  victory 
we  gain  is  as  bad  for  us  as  the  defeat  is  for  the  enemy; 
and  worse,  for  the  Yankees  care  very  little  for  a  defeat, 
provided  it  prolongs  the  war,  and  makes  sure  of  robbing 
us  of  our  negroes,  and  other  property.  They  have  all  the 
world  to  supply  them  with  recruits — food  for  powder; 
whereas  we  have  put  forth  our  full  strength ;  we  are  dry 
at  the  fountain  head." 

Thus  people  talked;  and  though  the  popular  pulse 
gained  a  feverish  strength  during  the  abortive  invasion 
of  Pennsylvania,  every  sagacious  observer,  in  the  army 
and  out  of  it,  could  very  well  see  that  sooner  or  later 
the  forward  movement  must  be  changed  to  a  retrograde 
one;  and  when  Lee  should  begin  to  fall  back,  where 
could  he  stop?  The  result  justified  the  gloomiest  fore- 
bodings, and  the  3rd  of  May  1863,  may  be  considered 


The  Shotwell  Papers  215 

the  last  bright  day  in  the  calendar  of  the  Confederacy. 
True,  our  arms  were  covered  with  glory  on  more  than 
one  subsequent  occasion,  but  they  were  the  small  gains 
of  a  ruined  gamester — the  tide  of  fortune  ran  steadily 
against  us. 

Singularly  enough  I  chanced  to  have  received  from 
the  Library  a  Federal  account  of  the  Battle  of  Chan- 
cellorsville,  or  the  Wilderness,  by  one  Rev.  Alonzo 
Quint,  an  army  Chaplain  of  one  of  the  Massachusetts 
Regiments,  and  correspondent  of  a  Boston  Religious 
newspaper.  And  still  more  singularly,  this  man,  who  is 
the  most  inveterate  liar  I  have  lately  read,  gives  a  toler- 
ably fair  narrative  of  that  battle.  I  quote  his  summary 
of  events : 

History  records  that  this  army  numbering  ac- 
cording to  the  official  and  published  reports  of  the 
medical  director,  160,000  men— of  which  120,000 
must  have  been  effective — magnificently  equipped 
— taking  its  own  time  for  its  movement — evidently 
surprising  the  enemy — with  confidence  in  its  com- 
manding general — with  splendid  fighting  qualities 
— was  baffled — not  routed — only  baffled. 

He  should  have  added — "by  less  than  half  our  num- 
ber of  men,  and  they  badly  armed — some  barefooted — 
and  all  on  short  allowance  of  food."  What  he  did  say  is, 
however,  sufficient  to  the  genius  of  Lee,  and  the  brav- 
ery of  his  troops.  And  had  not  Jackson  fallen,  their 
whole  army  would  have  been  routed,  for  he  was  reconnoi- 
tering  to  make  an  attack,  which  Schmucker  (Federal) 
in  his  History  of  the  War,  says  must  have  completed  the 
panic  which  already  prevailed  on  that  wing  of  the  army. 

I  have  called  this  Reverend  Quint  (he  ought  to  be 
called  Squint,  for  all  his  judgments  are  formed  squint- 
eyed)  an  inveterate  liar;  it  may  be  well  to  prove  it  by 
a  few  more  extracts  from  his  Book,  entitled  the  "Po- 
tomac and  the  Rapidan."  Hear  him: 

"There  is  no  reason  to  qualify  any  statement  of  Rebel 
barbarity."  "Southerners  steal  negroes  whenever  they 
have  a  chance  to  steal  them  to  make  them  slaves."  "I  have 
ceased  to  feel  any  wonder  at  the  brutality  of  a  slave 
holding  people."  "The  women  of  Winchester  shot  from 


216  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  windows  and  threw  hand  grenades  on  our  poor 
wounded  helpless  boys."  "The  black  drivers  of  ambu- 
lances under  flag  of  truce  at  Manassas  were  seized  and 
carried  away  to  slavery."  etc.,  etc.,  etc. — These  speci- 
mens are  taken  at  random.  But  hear  him  inculcating  the 
gospel  doctrine  of  forgiveness  of  enemies : 

"That  the  Rebels  must  be  conquered,  subjugated,  or 
what  you  please  to  call  it,  admits  of  no  question.  That 
our  armies  will  eventually  triumph  is  sure  from  the  fact 
that  Southerners  never  dare  to  meet  an  equal  force  of 
Northerners  in  the  field."  "But  when  the  South  is  con- 
quered it  must  be  held — not  a  mere  emancipation  of 
slaves,  but  a  change  in  the  owners  of  property."  "The 
simplest  way  is  for  Congress  to  pass  a  confiscation  act 
by  which  every  man  committing  a  single  act  of  Rebellion 
shall  forfeit  his  entire  property.  For  this  the  Army 
aches"  (Rally  round  the  Flag  boys !  Be  Patriotic — Save 
the  Union  and  fill  your  purses  with  the  property  of  the 
Southerners!)  "If  you  confiscate  you  have  the  means 
to  pour  in  a  new  population."  "At  the  end  of  the  war 
there  will  be  thousands  of  young  men  ready  to  take  and 
hold,  with  an  arm  used  to  the  rifle,  (sweet  Disciple  of 
the  Blessed  Prince  of  Peace!)  these  properties"  etc., 
etc.,  etc.  "Strike  then  for  a  confiscation  act!"  "Do  not 
divide  the  North,  and  weaken  our  armies  by  impracti- 
cable proposition  of  un-constitutional  measures,"  ("The 
War  is  to  protect  the  Constitution" — A  Lincoln) 
"From  an  active  Rebel  you  need  not  expect  honor,  truth, 
nor  principle."  "Southern  chivalry  is  a  myth."  etc.,  etc. 
Ad  nauseam;  ex  uno  discel 

Now  this  man  was  exceedingly  popular  as  an  army 
correspondent,  and  his  views  were  those  of  nine-tenths 
of  the  population  of  New  England;  and  are  still,  for 
Squint,  after  publishing  his  letters,  finds  them  so  popu- 
lar that  he  throws  them  on  the  world  in  book  form.  And 
I  learn,  that  he  is  considered  a  shining  light  of  his  church 
in  Massachusetts!  Like  people  like  priest;  like  priest 
like  people.  But  this  liar  tells  the  truth  without  meaning 
to;  he  pulls  down  the  mask,  and  shows  that  it  was  not 
veneration  for  the  Union  and  the  Constitution  that  actu- 
ated the  boasting  patriots  of  Yankeedom;  but  solely 


The  Shotwell  Papers  217 

and  simply  their  hatred  for  Southerners,  and  their  ava- 
ricious  hopes  of  growing  rich  in  confiscated  property, 
as  their  fathers  grew  rich  by  stealing  negroes  from  Af- 
rica, and  selling  them  to  Southerners.  It  was  only  a 
trifling  number  in  the  North  that  went  in  for  coercion 
on  principle,  and  even  they  were  soon  swept  away  by 
the  current  of  greed  and  prejudice.  But  we  shall  see — 
perchance  the  story  is  not  yet  fully  told. 

May  5th,  Again  disappointed  about  receiving  let- 
ters. How  much  would  I  give  for  one  warm-hearted 
intelligent  friend,  accustomed  to  keeping  up  with  cur- 
rent events,  and  willing  to  write  weekly,  and  thus  relieve 
me  from  utter  mental  stagnation!  But  of  all  those  who 
profess  an  interest  in  me,  not  one  seems  to  have  any 
conception  of  my  wants,  or  else  they  are  too  timid  to 
gratify  me.  Left  a  prey  of  suspense,  I  suffer  daily,  more 
from  many  causes,  which  it  is  quite  unnecessary  that  I 
should  state,  than  from  the  actual  hardships  of  my  case. 
One  thing  certain;  I  must  cease  to  expect  news  from 
home  or  elsewhere.  For  these  Sunday  morning  disap- 
pointments are  destructive  of  my  peace,  and  also  my 
temper.  Yet  while  philosophy  and  experience  cry — nil 
admirari! — look  for  nothing — expect  nothing — wonder 
at  nothing,  I  find  myself  breaking  wise  resolutions  in 
this  respect,  regularly  as  the  Sabbath  comes. 

May  9th.  "To  the  Deuce  with  all  Barbers!"  quoth  a 
certain  shoemaker  when  called  up  this  afternoon  to  have 
his  head  shaved.  Seriously  I  am  exceedingly  annoyed  by 
this  quarterly  head  shearing.  A  decent  person  dislikes  to 
have  his  hair  cut  close  to  the  skin  as  if  he  were  a  prize 
fighter,  or  wished  to  wear  a  wig;  to  say  nothing  of  a 
suspicion  that  one  has  had  lice  in  his  head.  Still  I  have 
to  put  up  with  it;  and  as  my  hair  is  naturally  "cross- 
grained,"  my  head  looks  like  what  the  ladies  call  "an 
object."  Indeed  like  the  antiquated  Uncle  Edward 
(familiarly  termed,  Uncle  Ned)  I  have  no  (wool) 
capillary  substance  on  the  summit  of  my  cranium,  in 
the  place  where  the  capillary  substance  ought  to  vege- 
tate. Of  course  the  regulation  is  perfectly  proper  for  the 
mass  of  the  prisoners,  who  rarely  comb  their  heads,  and 
for  other  reasons  are  better  off  with  close-clipped  heads. 


218  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

But  I  think  an  exception  might  be  made  in  favor  of  well 
bred  men.  At  least  it  shows  another  advantage  to  be  de- 
rived from  the  classification  of  prisoners.  Respectable 
men  might  thus  have  privileges  in  such  small  matters. 

May  12th.     Addie  writes  that  "Every  young  man 
of  your  acquaintance  in  the  county — in  fact  nearly  every 
young  man  of  any  sort  except  the  "Pukes"  have  fled  to 
parts  unknown."  Unhappy  Rutherford!  For  ten  years 
you  have  been  distracted  and  torn  by  vile  wretches  born 
and  reared  on  your  own  soil.  These  dogs — nay!  let  me 
not  insult  the  canine  race  by  the  comparison — are  now 
guarding  at  the  very  best  of  your  people,  and  frighten- 
ing others  into  exile!  When  you,  some  day,  come  to 
realize  the  folly  into  which  you  have  been  betrayed  by 
George  Logan,  with  his  imps,  Justice,  Scoggins,  Car- 
penter, et  al,  you  will  arise  and  cast  out  these  devils,  as 
the  whale  threw  out  Jonah!  "May  I  be  there  to  see."  I 
never  advocated,  nor  approved  of  violent  methods  of 
redressing  public  or  private  wrongs;  yet  some  diseases 
require  desperate  remedies ;  and  nothing  would  give  me 
greater  pleasure  than  to  hear  that  summary  vengeance, 
or  justice  rather,  had  been  meted  to  about  one  dozen  of 
the  leading  incendiaries  in  Rutherford.  Not  that  I  am 
vindictive,   and   actuated   entirely  by  resentment,   al- 
though of  course  I  have  my  feelings,  as  any  honorable 
man  must.  But  I  am  satisfied  that  there  can  be  no  rest, 
nor  peace,  for  the  decent  people  of  Rutherford  until  a 
few  scoundrels  are  hung  or  ejected. 

May  13th.  An  Irish  whelp,  named  Costello,  who  has 
charge  of  my  division  in  the  Shops,  insulted  me  today, 
so  grossly  that  I  could  think  of  nothing  else  during  the 
entire  afternoon.  I  have  not  yet  learned  to  trim  shoes 
very  neatly,  and  probably  I  never  shall  learn,  as  I  have 
no  mechanical  turn  whatever;  but  today  I  thought  I 
would  ask  the  instructor  (who  is  put  there  to  show  us 
how  to  trim,  etc. )  to  give  me  a  little  instruction  in  cut- 
ting out  the  shank.  "Not  Attend  to  your  own  business! 
Tve  got  no  time  to  fool  with  you.  If  you  haven't  got 
sense  enough  to  learn  how  to  trim  a  shoe  in  all  the  time 
you  have  been  here  youd  better  quit."  This  contemptu- 
ous reply,  coming  from  a  mere  Yankee-Irish  mechanic, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  219 

whom  I  should  not  think  of  asking  to  the  table  in  my 
father's  house  if  he  were  there  at  meal  time,  made  my 
blood  boil;  and  had  he  not  went  [sic]  hastily  away  I 
should  have  gotten  into  trouble.  Indeed,  I  am  always 
afraid  of  getting  into  an  altercation  with  some  of  these 
fellows,  who  seem  to  have  a  dislike  to  me — political  per- 
haps— and  may  sometime  provoke  me  beyond  endur- 
ance. Still  I  shall  try  to  avoid  it ;  and,  as  I  endeavor  to 
obey  the  rules  and  do  my  full  duty  I  shall  take  what- 
ever comes  with  as  much  composure,  as  any  high  spir- 
ited and  nervous  person  can  retain  under  daily  experi- 
ence of  what  Shakespeare  calls  the  "insolence  of  petty 
office." 

May  17h.  Called  out  to  see  Dr.  F.  C.  Curtis  (135 
Washington  Av.  Albany)  who  had  rec'd  a  letter  from 
father,  written  at  the  suggestion  of  Rev.  R.  E.  Johnson 
of  Mecklenburg  Co.,  asking  him  to  visit  me,  and  supply 
my  wants  as  far  as  practicable  etc.  I  am  exceedingly 
mortified  that  father  should  have  written  such  a  letter. 
I  would  rather  go  without  anything  than  be  supplied 
by  a  stranger.  Really  father  must  have  been  deranged 
when  he  wrote  that  letter. 

Dr.  C.  is  a  young  man,  son  of  Dr.  Curtis  (not  he  of 
Limestone)  who  used  to  preach  in  South  Carolina, 
somewhere ;  and  he  seems  to  sympathize  with  the  South. 
But  his  fears  that  I  should  ask  him  for  something  were 
quite  apparent.  I  soon  relieved  them,  however  by  thank- 
ing him,  and  declining  his  offer,  except  that  he  might 
send  me  an  Harper's  Magazine  if  he  wished.  This  he 
promised  to  do,  and  we  parted  to  meet  no  more,  I 
verily  believe.  His  visit  was  nevertheless  an  agreeable 
interruption  of  the  monotony  of  past  days ;  and  I  should 
be  pleased  to  see  more  of  him. 

May  18th.  My  situation  in  the  workshops  at  pres- 
ent is  to  say  the  least  a  novel  one  for  a  Southern  gen- 
tleman. The  tables  on  which  we  trim  shoes  are  in  paral- 
lel rows,  and  each  table  has  four  men,  who  stand  and 
work  at  a  "knee,"  or  block  upon  which  the  shoe  is  held 
by  one  hand,  while  the  other  drives  the  trimming  tools. 
Now  by  some  chance  or  other  it  happens  that  the  men 
on  each  side  of  me  are  negroes — big,  greasy,  stinking 


220  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

fellows,  whose  favorite  amusement  is  to  pick  lice  off 
their  bodies,  and  crack  them  on  the  bench  in  such  a  way 
that  I  cannot  avoid  seeing  them.  Beside  these  two  at 
my  elbows  there  is  another  darkey  immediately  in  front 
of  me;  so  that  I  am  like  the  bread  in  a  sandwich — be- 
tween Ham!  But  the  worst  of  it  is  the  stench,  the  odor 
de  Afrique,  which,  when  the  weather  is  warm,  quite 
overpowers  me.  A  gale  from  Ceylon,  or  a  tornado  in 
the  Spice  Islands  might  sweep  the  shops  without  puri- 
fying the  atmosphere  in  the  least;  at  all  events  not  in 
my  neighborhood. 

When  I  am  jostled  by  these  blackguards,  I  often 
think  of  a  parody  on  the  charge  of  the  Light  Horse  at 
Balaklava. 

Niggers  on  the  right  of  him 
Niggers  on  the  left  of  him 
Niggers  in  front  of  him 
Volleyed  and — stank! 

Negroes  and  polecats,  as  everybody  knows,  have  a 
strange  eccentricity  of  smell.  Yet  after  all  I  pay  very 
little  attention  to  such  matters.  The  darkeys  are  not 
placed  along  side  of  me  purposely,  I  presume;  and  if 
they  had  been  designedly  placed  there  I  should  have 
only  felt  a  supreme  contempt  for  those  who  could  seek 
to  annoy  a  prisoner  by  any  such  treatment.  The  Mon- 
grels tried  it,  but  did  not  succeed.  And  as  for  the  ne- 
groes, they  are  not  allowed  to  interfere  with,  or  speak 
to,  or  even  look  at  me ;  therefore  I  have  no  trouble  from 
them. 

Nevertheless  as  I  said  it  is  a  novel  spectacle — or  would 
be  to  my  Southern  friends — to  see  me  in  my  shirt  sleeves, 
bare  arms,  close-cropped  head,  beardless  face,  working 
in  the  middle  of  a  group  of  darkeys.  True,  our  South- 
ern farmers  often  work  in  the  fields  with  negroes;  but 
the  circumstances  are  different,  the  negroes  being 
slaves,  or  hired  servants  as  humble  as  slaves. 

May  19, 1872.  To  my  intense  delight,  I  last  evening 
discovered  a  fine  box  in  my  cell  when  I  came  in  from 
the  shops.  No  one  who  has  never  been  shut  up  in  prison 
for  many  wearisome  months,  can  comprehend  the  im- 
portance which  even  the  most  trivial  gift  from  outside 


The  Shotwell  Papers  221 

friends  assumes  in  the  eyes  of  a  prisoner.  I  have  before 
mentioned  the  paroxysm  of  gratitude  into  which  Casa- 
nova was  thrown  by  the  simple  present  of  a  new  gown, 
and  some  writing  material,  by  one  of  the  Patricians  of 
the  Council  board;  ccIn  the  fullness  of  my  heart"  he 
says,  "I  pardoned  even  my  oppressors/3  How  then, 
Mademoiselle >  ma  chere  amie,  way  down  South  in  Dixie, 
how  shall  I  thank  Thee  for  the  elegant  feast  which  I 
am  having  and  shall  have  for  days  to  come!  "Sweets 
from  the  sweet,"  isn't  that  the  language  of  the  song, 
or  is  it  only  from  my  heart?  Certainly  I  am  fortunate 
in  having  a  few  friends  who  cling  to  me,  through  evil, 
as  well  as  good,  report.  And  blessed  indeed,  is  a  friend 
in  need. 

The  box  is  from  Miss  M.  F.,  and  contains  two  mam- 
moth frosted  cakes,  2  jars  of  pickles,  a  large  ham,  sev- 
eral lbs  crackers,  pecans,  etc.,  etc.,  besides  some  warm 
stockings,  books,  etc.  It  could  not  have  come  in  better 
time;  for  I  am  in  wretched  condition,  not  being  able  to 
eat  the  sour  hash,  or  "salt  horse;"  and  as  for  the  "mush," 
it  nauseates  me;  hence  I  have  been  going  down  hill  for 
many  days. 

May  20th.  Genl.  Pilsbury,  passing  by  my  cell, 
asked  if  I  had  gotten  the  Blackstone  Commentaries, 
about  which  I  had  written  father.  As  I  had  not,  he  said 
he  would  endeavor  to  borrow  a  copy  from  some  one  of 
his  legal  friends.  I  shall  be  much  gratified  if  he  suc- 
ceeds, although  my  leisure  for  study  is  wonderfully 
little.  The  weather  is  improving,  and  the  South  wind 
finding  its  way  between  the  bars  of  my  cell  as  I  write 
this  whispers  to  me  of  pleasanter  scenes,  where  the  South 
wind  came  from. 

May  25th.  Our  contemptible  "Instructor"  reported 
me  to  the  overseer  for  not  doing  as  much  work  as  he 
wished  me  to  do,  to  wit:  50  pair  of  shoes  per  day.  The 
overseer  came  and  told  me  I  must  work  faster.  I  replied 
that  I  had  been  doing  between  35  and  40  pairs  daily, 
and  that  I  could  do  no  more;  that  I  was  an  awkward 
workman  at  the  best,  never  having  worked  before  I 
came  here.  He  said  I  ought  to  do  as  much  as  the  negro 


222  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

working  on  my  left  hand,  and  that  I  must  do  more  than 
I  had  been  doing.  I  answered  that  I  should  do  as  many 
as  I  could,  but  as  for  doing  50  pair;  that  was  beyond 
my  power  at  present.  He  then  left  me. 

It  is  terrible  to  be  exposed  to  this  sort  of  humiliation 
and  hectoring  from  day  to  day.  Sometimes  I  think  I 
would  rather  die  than  remain  here  for  six  years,  which 
is  the  only  prospect  before  me  now.  Of  course  I  know, 
that  I  am  in  a  Penitentiary  where  rigorous  treatment 
is  to  be  expected;  nor  can  I  look  for  much  distinction  in 
my  favor,  since  I  am  a  stranger,  unknown  to  the  officers, 
and  sent  here  on  the  footing  of  a  felon.  Yet,  while  my 
reason  tells  me  that  these  things  are  all  to  be  expected, 
I  cannot  forget  that  I  am  an  innocent  man,  that  I  am 
a  gentleman,  and  that  very  likely  some  of  these  follows 
hate  me  because  I  am  from  the  South.  Still  I  must  say 
for  the  overseer  (Francis)  that  he  always  speaks  to  me 
more  courteously  than  he  does  to  any  other  prisoner; 
and  today  he  seemed  disposed  to  be  friendly. 

May  26th.  After  waiting  and  hoping  another  week, 
I  am  disappointed!  I  am  full  of  disgust  on  the  subject. 
Someday;  if  I  live  and  my  hopes  prosper,  I  shall  try 
not  to  forget  those  false  friends  who  now  forget  me, 
leaving  me  here  to  languish  in  a  distant  prison  without 
a  line,  without  even  an  answer  to  my  inquiries,  although 
had  I  (like  them)  consulted  my  own  ease  and  interest, 
I  should  never  have  come  here.  But  'tis  idle  to  complain 
now;  'twas  ever  thus." 

May  30th.  Genl.  Pilsbury  came  into  my  cell  at  noon, 
bringing  4  vols,  of  Blackstone  (an  old  London  edition) 
which  he  said  had  been  sent  me  by  Messrs.  Gould  &  Son, 
Law  Book  Publishers,  68  State  St.  Albany,  to  whom 
he  had  gone  to  buy  a  copy.  Upon  his  explaining  what 
he  wished  to  do  with  it,  they  gave  him  this  old  set  of 
Blackstone,  and  offered  to  let  me  have  the  loan  of  any 
law  books  I  might  need.  I  assured  the  Genl.  that  I  was 
much  indebted  to  them  as  well  as  to  him  for  the  inter- 
est he  had  shown  in  providing  for  my  wants.  Indeed  the 
acquisition  of  these  books  permits  me  to  take  to  study 
in  real  earnest,  and  I  shall  try  to  manage  it  so  that  I 


The  Shotwell  Papers  223 

shall  get  an  half  hour  or  so  for  study  while  out  in  the 
workshops. 

I  told  Genl.  Pilsbury  that  through  his  kindness  I 
should  no  doubt  become  a  first  rate  lawyer  if  I  stayed 
here  six  months  longer  "Yes  and  as  you  may  be  here  an 
year  or  two,  I'd  advise  you  to  give  your  whole  atten- 
tion to  it,"  said  he.  This  was  quite  a  dash  of  cold  water 
on  my  budding  promises ;  although  he  has  no  more  idea 
than  I  when  my  liberation  shall  take  place. 

June  2nd.     No  letters!  Disgusted  again! 

Eo  die — Genl.  P.  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  go  out 
to  the  office  and  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  the  books 
from  Messrs.  Gould  and  Son.  I  went  and  wrote  as  fol- 
lows— 

Gentlemen 

I  have  the  honor  to  acknowledge  the  receipt,  by 
the  courtesy  of  Genl.  Pilsbury  of  a  set  of  Black- 
stone's  Commentaries ;  for  which  and  also  for  your 
kind  offer  to  let  me  have  the  loan  of  other  law  books 
as  I  may  need  them,  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  grate- 
ful thanks. 

It  was  a  pleasant  coincidence  that  the  volumes  sent 
by  you  were  once  the  property  of  an  acquaintance 
of  mine  (Hon.  W.  B.  Meares  of  Wilmington)  and 
it  will  be  a  still  more  pleasant  circumstance  for  me 
to  relate  to  my  friend  upon  my  return  to  North 
Carolina,  that  I  was  indebted  to  Messrs.  Gould  & 
Sons,  for  the  means  of  perusing  my  studies  while 
confined  in  a  distant  penitentiary.  With  renewed 
thanks,  I  am,  Gentlemen 

Your  obt.  Sevt., 

R.  A.  Shotwell. 

While  I  was  writing  this  note,  the  Genl.  stepped  out 
of  the  room,  and  presently  returned  with  a  bundle  of 
cake  and  crackers,  "from  Mrs.  Pilsbury."  I  had  a  good 
laugh  over  this  last  when  I  got  back  to  my  cell,  as  it 
shows  they  think  me  quite  a  young  man,  and  doubtless 
fond  of  "sweet  things."  Still  it  shows  equally  plainly 
that  the  Genl.  and  his  lady  take  a  friendly  interest  in 
me,  and  that  is  not  a  little  consolation.  The  General  has 


224  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

always  treated  me  better  than  I  could  have  looked  for, 
considering  that  I  came  here  unknown  and  friendless. 

June  8th.  Genl.  P.  and  lady  sailed  for  Europe  today 
to  attend  the  International  Congress  to  discuss  the 
question  of  Prison  Reform.  The  Trustees  generously 
voted  him  $5,000  for  his  expenses  during  the  trip;  a 
very  handsome  present  I  should  say.  They  can  afford  to 
be  liberal ;  for  he  is  doing  what  no  other  Superintendent 
in  the  States  has  succeeded  in  doing,  i.  e.,  making  the 
Institution  not  only  pay  its  debts,  but  actually  return  a 
fine  balance  to  its  credit.  This  year,  or  the  last  rather, 
he  cleared  $27,000,  besides  making  considerable  im- 
provement in  the  fare,  etc.  These  gains  are  the  result 
of  good  management  and  no  stealage.  There  are  four 
other  Penitentiaries  in  the  State ;  but  they  are  managed 
by  politicians,  and  each  superintendent  knowing  that 
he  is  liable  to  displacement  by  the  fluctuation  of  poli- 
tics, takes  good  care  to  feather  his  own  nest  while  feath- 
ers are  flying. 

June  9th.  Sadly  out  of  heart  when  the  Deputy 
passed  my  cell  with  his  hands  full  of  letters  but  not  one 
for  me.  But  since  he  has  brought  me  a  brief  note  from 
my  noble  friend,  M.  M.  F.  and  which  [is]  dated  May 
25 — fifteen  days  ago!  Those  rascally  post  masters  no 
doubt  can  tell  where  it  lay  during  the  extra  ten  days. 
She  says,  "I  wrote  you  a  long,  long  letter  by  last  mail 
giving  all  the  news;  but  somehow  I  think  you  do  not 
receive  all  the  letters  I  write."  I  judge  not,  ma  chere, 
if  you  write  more  than  one  in  the  year.  Of  course  the 
long  letter  giving  the  news  never  came  to  hand;  the 
news  letters  never  do.  I  suppose  the  Mongrels  examine 
all  my  correspondence  and  whenever  they  find  anything 
of  interest,  they  lay  that  aside  to  increase  its  merits, 
like  old  wine,  by  age.  But  Mary  says,  "I  wish  to  assure 
you  of  our  constant  remembrance  of  you.  I  hope  soon 
to  see  you  face  to  face,"  etc.  This  is  pleasant;  and  would 
be  more  so,  if  I  could  answer  "by  word  of  mouth." 

Brother  Mel.  has  won  the  $100  Thomsonian  Prize  for 
Heavy  Weights — Gymnastics.  He  appears  to  be  going 
it  heavy  with  the  Heavy  and  Light  Weights  of  Prince- 
ton Society.  To  read  his  epistles  is  like  hearing  a  young- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  225 

ster  boasting  of  the  pigeon  wings  he  had  recently  cut 
in  the  region  of  some  old  coquette's  heart.  Still  I  am  glad 
he  is  enjoying  himself,  and  I  wish  him  the  best  of  suc- 
cess in  life. 

Rev.  Carter  Burnett,  Col.  Bryan,  and  Anderson  Har- 
ris are  the  latest  arrests  in  Rutherford.  Who  next  ?  This 
is  a  shameful  outrage.  These  men,  excepting  perhaps  the 
last,  never  knew  there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  Ku  Klux 
in  their  neighborhood.  But  the  Mongrel  Man  Hunters 
only  wish  to  get  their  fees  for  the  arrests. 

June  10th.  An  intelligent  young  man  named  Cook, 
who  had  been  sent  here  for  10  years  for  pilfering  $10 
from  a  letter  in  the  post  office  where  he  was  a  clerk,  made 
the  prediction,  and  wrote  it  in  a  book  that  he  should 
not  live  to  see  the  9th  of  June.  On  Saturday  night  last 
he  died  in  the  Hospital.  His  cell  mate  has  the  book  in 
which  the  foreboding  entry  was  made  several  months 
ago,  when  Cook  was  not  in  serious  ill  health.  People  who 
believe  in  presentiments  would  like  to  have  the  particu- 
lars of  this  case.  He  died  of  consumption.  He  was  a 
Virginian,  and  apparently  a  decent  sort  of  fellow. 

June  22nd,  1872.  Another  detachment  of  soldiers 
arrived  today,  bringing  20  citizens  of  South  Carolina, 
convicted  for  Political  Purposes  by  Judge  Bond's  Star 
Chamber  Court  at  Columbia.  Their  names  and  senten- 
ces are  as  follows :  Pinkney  Caldwell,  Leander  Spencer, 
and  Wm.  Smith — each  ten  (10)  years  at  hard  labor, 
and  $1000  fine!  David  Ramseur,  Wm.  Ramsay,  Walker 
Dawson,  Walker  Moore,  Jos.  Lickie,  W.  P.  Anthony — 
8  years  and  $1000  fine.  Julius  Howe,  Elijah  Hardin, 
Alison  Hayes — 4  years  and  $100  fine.  J.  C.  Robinson, 
Gal  Hambright,  Jas  Saunders,  Wm.  Lowry,  G.  S. 
Wright,  Miles  McCullock— 18  months,  and  $100.  Benj. 
Strickland — actually  1  year  only!  (he  humbled  himself) . 

All  these  are  poor  ignorant  men — small  farmers  or 
tenants,  or  laborers — and  it  is  safe  to  conclude  that  more 
than  half  of  them  are  unjustly  sent  here.  Indeed  none 
deserve  to  be  sent  to  a  penitentiary,  although  it  is  pos- 
sible that  some  of  them  were  engaged  in  Ku  Kluxing. 
But  with  a  negro  population  so  numerous,  and  politi- 
cally opposed  to  the  true  interests  of  the  State,  as  that 


226  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

of  South  Carolina,  the  Klan  was  an  indispensable  neces- 
sity for  the  suppression  of  crime  and  for  the  protection 
of  the  weak  and  defenceless.  But  that  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  sentence  of  these  poor  men;  because,  as  is 
well  known,  they  were  dragged  from  their  families,  and 
shipped  here  to  undergo  years  of  ignominious  confine- 
ment, not  that  the  laws  might  be  vindicated,  but  solely 
to  answer  the  political  ends  of  the  Administration  party, 
which  hopes  to  consolidate  the  negro  vote,  and  intimi- 
date thousands  of  Conservative  voters  by  its  prosecu- 
tions. Ah!  'tis  shameful!  'tis  cruel!  'tis  pitiful!  It  calls 
to  High  Heaven  for  redress,  but  doubtless  it  is  designed 
that  the  American  Republic  shall  be  overthrown  by  the 
blind  and  fratricidal  hatred  of  the  Yankees,  who  appear 
willing  to  surrender  their  liberties  provided  the  South 
shall  be  ruined.  One  thing  certain,  if  the  Northern  peo- 
ple permit  the  despot  utterly  to  crush  their  southern 
brethren  they  speedily  will  find  the  heel  upon  their  own 
necks  also,  or  the  teaching  of  history  is  false. 

June  14th.  "Go  to  the  hall,"  said  the  overseer  this 
morning.  I  went,  trembling  with  agitation,  not  unmixed 
with  Hope.  "Go  back  to  the  Shop,"  said  the  deputy  in 
his  shortest  tone,  "You  are  not  the  man  I  want;  send 
Chadwick.  He  is  the  man  I  want."  I  returned  to  the 
shops  muchly  crestfallen  and  hurt  by  the  tone  in  which 
I  had  been  addressed.  Happy  Chadwick,  it  was  your 
friends,  not  mine,  that  had  come!  So  I  resumed  my 
wearisome  planing  of  shoe-soles. 

I  mention  this  trifling  incident  to  preface  a  remark 
that  a  few  months  of  this  life  is  very  apt  to  shatter  the 
nerves;  and  to  deprive  one  of  all  his  composure  when 
anything  unusual  occurs.  I  have  grown  so  nervous  that 
when  suddenly  called  to  quit  the  daily  routine  of  my 
labors,  or  to  go  out  to  meet  a  friend,  I  find  myself  in  a 
tremor  of  excitement  which  almost  takes  away  my  voice. 
This  arises  from  physical  weakness  from  lack  of  proper 
nourishment,  disuse  of  language  (I  do  not  speak  at  all 
for  weeks  at  a  time ) ,  and  the  perpetual  brooding  occa- 
sioned by  utter  deprivation  of  society,  and  the  current 
intelligence  of  the  day.  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  after 


The  Shotwell  Papers  227 

a  sudden  agitation  of  this  nature,  one  is  left  weak  and 
spiritless  for  the  remainder  of  the  day,  if  no  longer. 

June  16th.  Rec'd  printed  copy  of  a  speech  on  the 
Civil  Rights  Bill,  opposing  admission  of  negroes  to 
white  schools  in  the  South,  by  Hon.  J.  C.  Harper,  M.  C. 
from  the  8th  Dist.  N.  C.  Mr.  H.  sent  the  speech  to  me 
at  Rutherfordton,  apparently  forgetful  of  the  fact  that 
I  have  been  arrested,  wronged,  calumniated,  and  finally 
sent  to  the  Penitentiary.  Yet  I  was  one  of  the  six  who 
signed  the  card  announcing  him  as  one  candidate  for 
congress!  Truly  the  memory  of  men  in  office  is  short. 
Harper,  however,  has  done  himself  credit  by  his  speech, 
and  I  wish  it  could  be  read  by  every  man  and  woman  in 
the  land.  For  while  he  is  a  moderate,  and  impartial 
speaker,  he  states  the  case  so  clearly  that  he  who  run- 
neth may  read.  One  fact  he  mentions  that,  U.  S.  deputy 
marshals  are  accustomed  to  scour  the  country  with  blank 
warrants,  already  signed  by  the  commissioner,  in  their 
pockets,  and  upon  these  warrants  they  arrest  scores  of 
men,  and  fill  in  the  names  afterwards!  But  this  after 
all  is  only  a  bagatelle  in  comparison  with  the  graver 
villainy  of  judge,  jury,  marshals  and  attorneys  in 
hundreds  of  instances  since  the  beginning  of  the  Mon- 
grel Crusade.  I  am  glad,  however,  to  see  that  Mr.  H. 
has  taken  so  bold  and  manly  a  stand,  and  I  wish  him 
every  success. 

Nothing  from  home  in  two  months !  My  friends — so- 
called — are  too  cowardly  or  indifferent  to  waste  an  hour 
on  me.  But  I  shall  not  forget  them! 

June  20th.  It  is  reported  that  more  than  60  K.  K. 
were  arrested  in  a  single  day  last  week  in  Union  Co., 
S.  C.  The  infamous  Joe  Hester  has  also  kidnapped  Dr. 
Rufus  Bratton  of  Yorkville,  and  brought  him  back 
from  Canada  whither  he  had  fled.  Hester  or  some  in- 
strument employed  by  him,  approached  Dr.  B.,  and 
clapped  a  handkerchief  filled  with  chloroform  to  his 
nostrils,  and  then  got  him  on  a  train,  and  carried  him 
quietly  into  the  United  States.  I  trust  the  Canadian 
Government  will  have  the  pluck  to  demand  his  restitu- 
tion. How  glad  would  be  my  heart  could  I  learn  that 
the  Yankees  were  fairly  embroiled  in  a  foreign  war 


228  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

which  might  afford  the  South  an  opportunity  to  unfold 
her  flag  and  march  to  victory  once  more.  Then  would  it 
be  discovered,  happily  too  late,  that  the  men  of  the 
South  are  not  all  mere  peons  whom  it  is  allowable  to 
abuse,  calumniate,  and  enslave.  Then  would  the  most 
conciliatory,  fawning,  tone  be  used  towards  the  "Reb- 
els," and  be  used  in  vain.  I  know  that  in  giving  expres- 
sion to  these  views  I  may  seem  to  be  actuated  by  per- 
sonal resentment  for  the  wrongs  I  have  suffered.  But 
more  than  that  is  the  conviction  that  the  South  can  never 
throw  off  the  yoke  of  tyranny,  and  negro-carpet-bag- 
scallawag-Rag-tag-supremacy  until  she  free  herself 
with  her  swords.  And  all  this  is  the  result  of  the  delib- 
erate policy  of  the  Yankee  leaders.  When  the  war  closed, 
I  with  every  other  intelligent  person  in  the  South,  ac- 
cepted the  situation,  and  resolved  to  give  the  government 
our  hearty  support,  and  contribute  as  far  as  we  were 
able,  to  the  growth  of  friendly  relations  between  the  sec- 
tions. To  this  end  I  wrote  daily  and  weekly  in  my  paper, 
spoke  daily  and  hourly  when  occasion  occurred,  and  was 
instrumental  in  bringing  out  more  than  an  half  dozen 
Northern  men  to  settle  in  the  South.  But  all  our  ad- 
vances have  been  repelled  by  the  Administration  and 
Grant,  calling  out  "let  us  have  peace,"  while  he  drew 
the  sword,  has  done  every  thing  that  his  feeble  intellect 
could  devise  to  cripple,  humiliate,  and  provoke  the 
South,  until  now  there  are  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
our  best  people  ready  to  fight  again,  and  even  to  put 
themselves  under  the  protection  of  a  foreign  government 
to  escape  any  connection  with  those  who  have  won  our 
lasting  hatred.  The  day  may  never  come  while  I  live; 
but  come  it  will! 

June  22nd.  Hot!  Felt  like  taking  off  my  jacket  for 
the  first  time  since  I  came  here!  Bah!  the  atmosphere  in 
the  shops  would  sicken  a  scavenger.  The  "seventy  sev- 
eral stinks"  of  cologne  cannot  smell  anywhere  in  com- 
parison with  the  half  dozen  darkies  in  my  neighborhood. 
I  dread  the  long  summer  days ! 

June  28.  At  last  another  letter  from  my  dear  faith- 
ful friend  Miss  Mary  Forney,  who  writes  that  the  K.  K. 
cases  have  been  postponed  and  are  to  be  transferred  to 


The  Shotwell  Papers  229 

the  new  (or  western)  judicial  district  of  N.  C,  to  sit  at 
Statesville  in  October.  Sanguine  people  regard  this  as 
the  final  postponement  of  the  trials,  but  not  so  I.  The 
object  aimed  at  by  the  Mongrels  is,  no  doubt,  to  lull 
apprehension,  and  create  a  false  Security,  in  order  that 
many  of  the  refugees  may  return  home  (as  they  are 
doing)  and  be  taken;  as  well  as  to  prolong  the  excite- 
ment, and  consequent  intimidation  until  the  Presidential 
election,  thereby  carrying  the  State  for  Grant,  and  de- 
ceiving the  whole  country,  which  will  suppose  that  from 
the  resumption  of  the  trials  the  Ku  Klux  are  still  ram- 
pant in  the  State.  These  devices  of  the  Mongrel  Man- 
agers are  perfectly  transparent,  and  no  less  iniquitous. 
What  can  be  said  of  a  Judge  (Bond)  lending  his  judi- 
cial power  to  advance  base  party  ends?  Capt.  Pilsbury 
informs  me  that  a  N.  Y.  City  paper,  contains  an  allusion 
to  "Shotwell  the  Editor,  in  Albany  Penitentiary,  sand- 
wiched between  two  negroes."  He  had  mislaid  the  paper, 
or  some  one  had  carried  it  off,  and  he  did  not  recollect 
the  connection,  but  it  was  intended  as  a  slur  on  me,  etc. 
"But,"  said  Capt.  P.,  "as  soon  as  I  saw  it,  the  thought 
occurred  to  me  that  your  letter,  in  which  you  made  use 
of  that  expression  had  been  intercepted  by  your  ene- 
mies" 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  case.  I  have 
only  mentioned  the  fact  about  my  being  sandwiched 
between  negroes  in  two  letters,  one  to  Genl.  L.,  who  is 
not  a  man  to  give  much  publicity  to  private  communi- 
cations, and  Miss  R.  L.  D.  who,  as  she  has  not  acknowl- 
edged it,  I  feel  certain  never  received  my  letter.  I  sup- 
pose the  Rutherfordton  Mongrels  captured,  nay  stole, 
it;  and  the  story  was  too  good  to  keep.  They  very  likely 
wrote  the  statement  to  some  of  their  cronies,  and  thus  it 
finally  reached  the  correspondent  of  my  paper! 

This  shows  what  security  there  is  for  my  correspon- 
dence, which  has  to  pass  through  the  hands  of  half  a 
dozen  of  these  Mongrel  post  master-thieves  before  it 
is  at  liberty  to  reach  its  final  destination,  provided  they 
see  fit  to  let  it  pass.  Very  well,  Messieurs,  far  more 
decent,  far  preferable,  is  the  company  of  my  colored 
neighbors,  to  yours!     Yet  if  rogues  and  mail  robbers 


230  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

were  convicted  of  their  crimes,  you  too  would  be  here; 
and  honester  men  would  fill  your  places.  But  of  course, 
we  cannot  expect  the  Radical  Administration  to  send 
its  chief  supporters  in  the  South  to  the  Penitentiary, 
even  though  they  do  steal.  Beside,  in  these  days,  under 
Radical  rule,  thieving,  corruption,  and  rascality  is  too 
general,  too  much  a  matter  of  course,  to  receive  punish- 
ment. Only  honest  men,  of  a  Democratic  turn  of  mind 
are  liable  to  prosecution. 

Eo  die.  My  cell  is  utterly  in  possession  of  "the 
plague  that  walketh  in  darkness" — bugs!  Every  crevice, 
nook  and  cranny  swarms  with  the  cannibal  foe!  They 
lie  in  wait  during  the  day,  but  no  sooner  do  I  enter  the 
door  at  night  fall  than  they  rally  in  groups,  battalions, 
brigades,  and  pounce  upon  me,  like  the  African  ants 
on  a  dead  lion.  Methinks  there  is  a  conspiracy  between 
the  chinches,  flies,  lice,  spiders,  ear  wigs,  bed  bugs,  and 
every  other  sort  of  bugs,  to  phlebotomize  me,  and  to 
drain  the  last  drop  from  my  veins. 

These  knight-err  ants  take  for  their  watchword,  E 
pluribus  unum — Many  on  one! — and  they  advance  like 
an  Highland  Clan,  shouting 

Fee!  Faw!  Fum! 

I  smell  the  blood  of  an  Englishmun! 

I  must  say,  however,  that  the  authorities  do  all  they 
can  to  extirpate  these  pests,  and  the  Deputy  has  just 
told  me  he  will  have  my  cell  thoroughly  cleansed  on  the 
morrow.  It  is  curious  that  vermin  and  prison  quarters 
should  be  almost  inseparable.  When  the  enemy  once 
gets  possession  it  is  next  to  impossible  to  dislodge  him. 

June  24th.  The  Hall  Master  says  he  obtained  nearly 
a  peck  of  bugs  from  my  cell.  I  suppose  that  accounts 
for  my  being  so  weak  lately.  I  may  get  a  little  sleep 
now,  as  the  cell  has  been  very  well  cleaned,  and  all  crev- 
ices plastered  with  white  lead.   I  feel  much  relieved. 

These  are  small  matters  to  mention  in  one's  journal; 
but  they  go  to  show  how  our  time  and  thoughts  are  oc- 
cupied; therefore  should  not  be  omitted. 

July  1st.  A  brief  note  from  A.  confirms  my  sus- 
picions   concerning   the    interference   with    my   corre- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  231 

spondence,  by  the  Mongrel  P.  Ms.,  and  U.  S.  detectives. 
He  mentions  the  names  of  a  number  of  persons,  who 
have  written  to  me ;  although  their  letters  never  came  to 
hand.  This  is  provoking;  but  only  what  might  be  ex- 
pected from  the  Representatives  of  the  administration, 
in  the  South.  I  presume  Judge  Logan,  and  son,  Wal- 
lace, Carpenter,  Justice,  Mooney,  and  the  whole  brood 
of  Scoggins,  read  every  one  of  my  letters  before  they 
reach  their  destination.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  there  are 
Ku  Klux  organizations  in  a  country  where  mail-robbery 
is  systematically  carried  on  by  the  very  leaders  of  the 
Government  party? 
Eo  die. 

Called  out  to  the  Supts.  Office,  where  I  was  met  by 
Col.  Chichester,  of  the  Charleston,  (S.  C.)  Courier,  who 
is  now  visiting  the  North,  the  Boston  Jubilee,  etc.,  in 
connection  with  the  members  of  the  "Southern  Press 
Association,"  (Some  40  or  more  in  numbers)  who  are 
returning  the  visit  of  the  Northern  Association.  Being 
delayed  in  Albany,  over  the  Sabbath  Col.  Chichester 
called  to  see  if  he  could  be  of  any  service  to  the  Ku  Klux ; 
and  said  if  we  desired  it,  he  would  remain  an  additional 
day,  and  take  down  our  statements,  with  a  view  to  pub- 
lishing a  campaign  document,  etc.  I  thanked  him  for 
his  kindness;  but  thought  best  that  no  publicity  should 
be  given  to  our  cases,  just  at  present,  as  the  Government 
still  held  the  rod  in  terror  em  over  thousands  in  the  South, 
and  possibly  an  expose  might  call  down  its  wrath  on 
other  innocent  heads.  As  for  my  own  individual  case, 
I  would  gladly  proclaim  to  the  world  how  deeply  I  have 
been  wronged  and  maltreated;  but  as  a  matter  of  ex- 
pediency, i.  e.,  for  the  preservation  of  others,  I  should 
keep  silent  for  a  time  at  least. 

Col.  Chichester  said  we  need  have  no  fears  of  a  warm 
welcome  on  our  return.  That  the  best  people  of  South 
Carolina  regarded  us  as  martyrs,  not  criminals.  He 
also,  stated  that  more  than  5000  young  men  had  fled 
from  that  State,  fearing  arrest  and  annoyance  from 
the  Mongrels. 

Capt.  P.  told  this  gentleman  to  give  my  friends  a 
good  account  of  me ;  that  I  had  not  received  even  a  rep- 


232  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

rimand  since  I  came  here.  This  shows  that  he  is  not 
aware  of  the  hectoring  I  occasionally  receive  from  the 
overseer.  Sometimes  I  think  I  shall  tell  him;  but  'tis 
best  not  to  complain,  for,  of  course,  the  officers  have  the 
inside  track  in  all  such  races. 

July  3rd,  1872.  Really  it  is  outrageous !  Seven  citi- 
zens of  Alabama  charged  with  Ku  Kluxing  have  just 
arrived — the  second  batch  from  that  State.  Their 
names  are  as  follows.  Richard  S.  Grey,  Neal  Haskins, 
John  D.  Young,  and  Reuben  G.  Young — each  ten  (10) 
years,  and  $5000  fine !  Ringold  Young,  seven  years  and 
$2000!  Chas.  Howard  and  Jas.  Blanks  five  years  and 
$1000! 

These  men  were  tried  before  the  notorious  "Dick 
Busteed,"  and  according  to  newspaper  accounts  had 
nothing  like  a  fair  trial.  All  plead  not  guilty,  and 
prayed  for  a  new  trial;  but  the  judicial  tool  of  the  Gov- 
ernment had  neither  justice  nor  clemency  to  show  them. 
Four  of  the  victims  are  old,  gray-haired  men ;  the  others 
mere  boys;  all  poor,  and  more  or  less  illiterate.  Thus 
the  Despot  begins  his  work  in  another  State.  An  Ala- 
bama paper  complains  that  these  men  were  not  allowed 
even  the  beggarly  boon  of  serving  their  terms  in  their 
own  State  Penitentiary,  but  must  be  sent  to  one  in  the 
far  North,  where  even  the  rigors  of  the  season  would  be 
penalty  to  any  Southerners  from  the  Gulf  States.  But 
I  expect  they  do  not  regret  this  change  of  location  so 
much  as  the  Editor  supposes;  for  I  imagine  that  they 
would  rather  be  here,  than  be  exposed  to  the  petty  an- 
noyances and  malevolence  sure  to  be  put  upon  them 
in  their  state  penitentiary;  if  it,  like  most  of  our  public 
institutions,  is  in  the  hands  of  scalawags,  or  carpet  bag- 
gers. 

4th  July,  1876.  At  length  we  celebrate  another 
spread-eagle  day!  We've  been  looking  for  it,  or  for- 
ward to  it,  for  quite  a  while ;  having  patriotic  appetites, 
if  not  sentiments.  To  explain  which  remark  I  must 
add  that  on  this  day  we  receive  annually  a  feast,  con- 
sisting of  ham,  potatoes,  cabbage,  onions,  strawberries, 
and  sugar !  besides  it  is  actually  observed  as  an  holiday — 
the  only  one  in  the  year  for  Penitentiary  Birds. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  233 

Today  we  had  exercises  in  the  chapel,  which  was 
neatly  decorated  with  the  Yankee  bunting,  flowers,  etc. 
Upon  a  platform,  an  amateur  glee  club  of  ladies  and 
their  beaux  from  the  city,  discoursed  the  northern  airs 
(the  ladies  put  some  on)  with  much  spirit.  Several 
divines,  and  legal  fledglings,  inter luded  the  music  with 
melancholy  attempts  to  say  something  new  about  the 
"glorious  Fourth,"  and  the  "best  Government  the  world 
ever  saw."  Not  one  of  them  seemed  to  be  aware  (as  I 
daresay  they  were  not )  that  more  than  three  score  and 
ten  guiltless  citizens  of  the  South,  were  in  the  audience 
before  them,  undergoing  an  unjust  and  tyrannical  im- 
prisonment! Yet  what  a  commentary  was  this  bare 
fact  upon  the  flowery  panegyrics,  with  which  they  decked 
their  fictitious  Republic!  What  monarchy  of  the  Old 
World  can  do  more  this  day  than  is  being  done  by  Grant, 
and  his  military  and  civil,  and  judicial  servants! 

To  me  this  occasion  has  been  an  indescribably  sad  one. 
It  happens  that  I  occupy  one  of  the  front  benches  in  the 
chapel;  consequently  am  face  to  face  with  all  visitors, 
who  drop  in.  Today  the  platforms  were  full  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  and  my  feelings  may  be  imagined  as  I 
sat  with  folded  arms,  and  downcast  eyes  (the  rules  re- 
quire this)  while  they  gazed  at  me  with  that  curiosity, 
pity  and  abhorrence,  with  which  women,  and  pious  peo- 
ple, regard  criminal  outcasts  from  Society !  What  mat- 
ters if  I  felt  innocent,  injured,  aye,  and  superior  in  birth 
and  breeding  to  many  before  me,  this  knowledge  could 
not  relieve  me  from  the  embarrassment  and  annoyance 
of  the  position. 

The  thought  occured  to  me  during  the  services:  No 
wonder  that  the  Administration  dares  to  establish  a  des- 
potism at  the  South,  dares  to  tamper  with  the  jury  box, 
and  the  ballot  box,  dares  to  carry  elections  by  force,  and 
consign  its  opponents  to  a  life  time  imprisonment.  When 
such  outrages  on  law  and  liberty  as  that  of  my  trial,  and 
other  Ku  Klux  trials  are  unable  to  arouse  the  public, 
nay,  are  hardly  heard  of  by  the  majority  of  the  North- 
ern people,  and  while  blatant  orators  bespatter  it  with 
obsequious  and  nauseating  praise,  such  as  we  have  heard 
this  day! 


234  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

July  7  th.  To  my  intense  surprise,  at  last,  a  letter! 
Mary  having  written  to  say  that  she  has  written  often! 
She  writes  regularly,  but  the  Mongrels  are  opposed  to 
my  receiving  letters;  hence  they  stop  short  of  Albany. 
Well  'tis  provoking,  irritating!  But  as  the  Hard 
Shells  say,  what  is  to  be  will  be.  Genl.  It.  B.  Vance  is 
out  for  Congress  in  our  Dist.  He  was  my  choice  in 
1870,  although  I  was  not  opposed  to  Durham.  I 
thought  Vance  could  get  his  seat  without  trouble ;  while 
Durham  had  already  been  once  rejected.  But  the  ma- 
jority of  the  convention  choosing  Durham  I  gave  him 
my  hearty  support  until  he  ill-advisedly  withdrew.  I 
did  all  I  could  to  prevent  his  withdrawal,  which  I  re- 
garded as  a  political  dodge  of  certain  aspirants  to  get 
him  off  the  track.  Time  has  confirmed  this  view  of  the 
business,  and  Durham  no  doubt  recognizes  the  truth 
of  my  arguments  on  the  former  occasion.  But  Vance 
has  finally  gotten  the  nomination  and  will  come  in  with 
an  handsome  majority.  He  is  personally  very  popular, 
and  being  an  able,  moderate,  and  scrupulously  honest 
man,  is  sure  to  make  a  good  representative.  Aunt  Susie 
writes  from  Constantinople,  Turkey,  under  date  of  June 
3d,  assuring  me  of  her  love  and  sympathy,  and  giving  me 
a  practical  token  of  it,  by  enclosing  a  "bit  of  gold."  Yet 
with  all  her  affection  she  cannot  withhold  a  regret  that 
I  am  Southern-born!  Wonderful  prejudice  of  the 
Yankee  mind,  that  can  outlive  20  years  in  a  foreign  land ! 
Still  I  know  that  Auntie  never  hears  but  one  side  of  my 
story. 

July  8th,  1872.  Having  been  sent  for,  I  this  after- 
noon, went  to  the  "Office,"  where  I  was  introduced  by 
Capt.  Pilsbury,  to  an  elderly  gentleman,  of  portly  bear- 
ing, having  thick  locks  of  long  white  hair  hanging  upon 
his  shoulders,  giving  him  rather  a  leonine  aspect,  and 
who  promptly  came  forward  to  give  me  his  hand.  The 
Capt.  had  whispered  to  me  in  the  guard  room,  that  my 
visitor  was  Hon.  Gerrit  Smith,  the  famous  Abolitionist, 
and  that  he  had  come  from  High  Authority  having  an 
order  from  the  President  or  Sec'y  of  War  to  admit  him 
to  hold  conversation  with  any  of  the  political  prisoners, 
etc.     Mr.  Smith  was  accompanied  by  his  son,  a  dark 


The  Shotwell  Papers  235 

featured  young  man,  reputed  "fast,"  and  directly  op- 
posed to  his  father  in  politics,  or  at  least,  in  his  abandon- 
ment of  Horace  Greeley.  Indeed  it  is  said  that  all  of 
Smith's  relations  are  Greeleyites. 

Mr.  Smith  began  by  informing  me  that  the  object  of 
his  visit  was  to  ascertain  something  about  the  condition, 
degree  of  guilt,  etc.,  of  the  Ku  Klux,  intimating  that 
his  inclinations  were  on  the  side  of  clemency,  and  that 
he  should  be  glad  to  be  of  service  to  us.  I  replied  that 
I  should  take  pleasure  in  giving  him  any  information 
at  my  command.     He  asked  what  was  the  object  of  the 
Klan.     I  explained  that  the  excesses  of  the  Loyal  Lea- 
gues, the  incendiarism  of  worthless  whites,  playing  with 
the  emotional  and  excitable  nature  of  the  uneducated 
freedmen,  together  with  the  utter  corruption,  and  worth- 
lessness  of  the  legal  and  civil  authorities,  obliged  the 
respectable  people  of  the  South  to  enter  into  some  or- 
ganization or  association  for  the  suppression  of  crime, 
and  to  exert  a  salutary  restraint  upon  the  rowdyish 
propensities  of  the  dissolute  darkeys.  "Did  you  fear  an 
insurrection?"     "Not  in  our  part  of  the  country,  Sir; 
for  with  us  the  whites  are  equal  in  numbers  to  the  blacks ; 
but  in  the  thinly  settled  sections  of  some  other  Southern 
States,  such  an  event  is  not  improbable,  so  long  as  mean 
whites  are  permitted  to  lead  the  negroes  by  the  nose." 
I  then  proceeded  to  give  him  a  frank  and  truthful  state- 
ment of  the  object  of  the  order,  its  oath,  etc.,  and  showed 
him  by  many  illustrations  how  grievously  we,  and  indeed 
the  whole  South,  had  been  maligned.     Told  him  that 
hundreds  of  the  disorders  attributed  to  the  Ku  Klux 
were  private  feuds  between  families  or  localities  while 
others  were  actually  committed  by  Radicals,  and  Loyal 
Leaguers.     Asked  him  if  he  had  not  seen  the  Adair 
murder  ascribed  in  the  Herald  to  Ku  Klux ;  and  assured 
him  the  Adairs  were  the  most  violent  Radicals  and 
Grant  men  in  Rutherford  County !     Still  their  crime  is 
in  the  North  laid  on  the  Ku  Klux.     I  then  told  him 
about  'Squire  Brown,  Scruggs,  and  DePriest,  who  to 
my  belief — almost  to  my  knowledge — were  as  innocent 
as  he  was.  To  old  man  Collins's  case  I  gave  particular 
attention,     Mr.  Smith  listened  with  interest,  and  asked 


236  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

many  questions.  Wished  to  know  what  I  thought  of 
Holden,  Judge  Settle,  the  negro  Jim  Harris,  and  others. 
I  said  that  we  regarded  Holden  as  a  disgrace  to  our 
State.  Judge  Settle  is  an  able  man,  and  I  know  of  no 
direct  charges  against  his  private  character.  As  for 
Harris,  he  is  said  to  be  a  smart  darkey ;  I  know  nothing 
about  him.  "He  is  a  splendid  man,  one  of  the  best  you 
have,"  said  he.  Settle  was  his  particular  friend,  and  he 
should  write  to  him  to  do  something  for  me.  I  thanked 
him,  but  considered  it  would  be  hardly  worth  while  to  do 
so.  He  asked  if  I  knew  Genl.  Clingman,  John  Kerr, 
and  others.  I  replied  that  I  knew  Judge  Kerr  by  repu- 
tation, and  Mr.  Clingman  personally,  the  latter  being 
from  Buncombe  where  I  lately  published  a  newspaper. 
"Ah!  Yes,  Buncombe!  I  recollect  now  Thomas  Cling- 
man was  from  Buncombe ;  but  he  was  a  smart  man,  Sir ; 
I  thought  very  well  of  Clingman,  Sir."  In  reply  to 
other  questions  I  remarked  that  there  were  several  gen- 
tlemen of  ability  connected  with  the  Republican  party 
in  N.  C,  (Judge  Settle,  N.  Boyden,  Victor  Barringer, 
W.  Bailey,  etc.)  ;  but  that  they  could  hardly  be  called 
Radicals,  since  they  were  not  identified  with  the  violence, 
and  stealage  of  the  party,  and  were  apparently  genuine 
Federalists  on  principle.  Mr.  S.  said  he  was  glad  to 
hear  me  say  so,  etc.,  etc.  He  then  asked  me  what  I 
should  do  if  released.  "Return  home,  obey  the  laws  and 
endeavor  to  make  a  living  by  my  profession."  "What 
is  your  profession?"  "Well,  Sir,  I  am  studying  law." 
"What!  Studying  law  in  penitentiary!"  "Most  assur- 
edly, Sir."  "Well  I  do  assure  you  I  am  sorry  to  see 
a  young  man  of  your  abilities  here."  "I  regret  it  my- 
self, Sir,  but  I  do  not  consider  that  I  deserve  to  be  here." 
"The  worst  thing  I  find  against  you  is  your  intelli- 
gence," said  he  with  a  smile;  and  Capt.  P.  coming  to  the 
table,  he  repeated  the  remark  to  him.  Capt.  P.  said, 
"Shotwell  won't  tell  you,  but  I  will,  that  he  had  every 
opportunity  to  get  out  by  betraying  some  other  persons, 
but  he  wouldn't  do  it;  although  he  told  the  men  who 
came  with  him  that  he,  as  their  chief,  gave  them  per- 
mission to  make  what  terms  they  could,  and  get  out  if 
they  could."     "That  was  very  honorable  in  him,"  said 


The  Shotwell  Papers  237 

Mr.  S.,  arising  and  giving  me  his  hand.  He  said,  "I  will 
see  what  I  can  do  for  you."  "Ah  Sir,  I  thank  you  but 
I  have  many  enemies  who  will  oppose  my  liberation  to 
the  last  moment."  "Of  course,  you  must  have  enemies; 
your  talents  would  make  you  many  enemies  in  public 
life,"  etc.,  etc.  "Well  you  will  get  out  in  two  or  three 
years  at  all  events''  "I  shall  try  to  endure  whatever 
falls  to  my  lot,  Sir." 

He  then  shook  my  hand  for  the  third  time,  and  I 
withdrew.  What  a  funny  exhibition  must  this  not  have 
been — the  father  of  Abolitionism,  or  at  least  of  the  in- 
cendiary phase  of  Abolitionism,  and  a  Ku  Klux  hob- 
nobbing together!  Bah!  Misery  makes  strange  bed 
fellows. 

Now  what  does  this  visit  portend?  Is  Grant  becom- 
ing alarmed  at  the  noise  created  by  this  tyranical  usur- 
pation? And  is  he  paving  the  way,  by  the  farce  of 
Smith's  intercession,  to  the  liberation  of  his  victims? 
Or  is  it  only  a  blind  to  still  the  awakening  sympathy  in 
our  behalf  by  an  apparent  disposition  to  restore  us  to 
freedom?  The  last  I  fear,  and  believe,  is  the  true  ex- 
planation. Be  that  as  it  may  there  is  no  hope  for  me. 
These  wretches  will  never  permit  me  to  escape  so  long 
as  they  know  me  to  be  un-humbled.  As  for  Mr.  Smith 
I  was  favorably  impressed  by  philanthropic  countenance 
and  courteous  manners.  In  nothing  did  he  intimate 
any  consciousness  of  my  ignominious  situation ;  and  very 
naturally  I  felt  pleased  at  this  thoughtf ulness ;  although 
I  cannot  forget  that  it  was  the  teaching  of  this  man  and 
his  colleagues  that  brought  war  and  ruin  upon  my 
country. 

July  10th.  Porter,  one  of  the  S.  C.  men  died  in  hos- 
pital of  spinal  diseases.  He  is  the  first  of  us  to  succumb 
under  long  confinement,  hardship,  and  home  sickness. 
It  is  sad  to  think  of  this  man  dying  so  far  from  home 
and  friends,  in  a  prison,  alone  and  uncared  for;  and 
last  of  all,  being  sent  to  a  felon's  grave !  He  was  a  poor, 
ignorant,  lowborn  fellow,  and  had  little  character  in  his 
own  community,  I  am  told;  but  it  is  a  crying  shame 
that  he  should  have  been  sent  to  die  here  in  a  Peniten- 
tiary. 


238  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

July  13th.  Capt.  P.  gave  me  a  pencil  and  folio  to 
write  out  my  account  of  the  origin,  etc.,  of  the  Klan  for 
preservation.  I  wrote  about  12  pages,  giving  a  running 
sketch  of  the  causes  which  lead  to  the  formation  of  the 
order,  etc.,  taking  good  care  to  say  nothing  that  I  should 
regret  to  see  in  print.  This  I  suppose  the  Captain  will 
keep  in  his  office  to  show  visitors  who  may  desire  to  hear 
the  Ku  Klux  version  of  the  Southern  troubles.  I 
showed  in  it  that  while  the  majority  of  the  Klan  were 
Democrats,  the  Democratic  party  could  not  be  held  re- 
sponsible for  the  conduct  of  the  Klan.1 

July  14th.  Depressed  and  gloomy  beyond  telling! 
And,  Oh,  so  sad  and  out  of  heart !  Another  week  with- 
out a  line  from  home! 

July  18th.  Saw  several  nuns  this  morning  among 
the  visitors ;  queer  looking  demoiselles  in  sombre  colored 
garments,  and  huge  bonnets;  but  very  pretty  and  co- 
quettish withal.  One  displayed  a  remarkably  neat  boot, 
and  wasn't  ashamed  of  it  either.  How  did  I  see  it — her 
I  should  say?  Ah!  that  would  be  telling  tales  out  of 
school,  and  who  knows  but  the  deputy  may  read  this? 

1  The  document  referred  to  was  later  printed  in  a  New  York  newspaper  and 
copied  in  the  Charlotte  Observer.  The  original  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Judge 
Harris  Dickson  of  Vicksburg,  Mississippi.  A  typewritten  copy  is  in  the  possession 
of  the  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission.    The  following  letter  gives  its  history. 

SIXTEEN    WALL    STREET 
New  York  City 

January    26,    1928. 
Judge  Harris  Dickson, 
Players  Club, 
New  York,  N.  Y. 
Dear  Judge: 

Here  is  this  document  about  the  Ku  Klux  Klan,  which  is  authoritative,  and 
which  possibly  you  may  be  able  to  use  some  day.  At  any  rate,  I  think  it  will 
interest  you.   This  is  the  history  of  it. 

I  went  on  the  SUN  staff  just  after  leaving  College,  and  during  the  first  two  or 
three  years  while  I  was  on  the  City  Staff,  I  did  a  number  of  special  articles  for 
the  Sunday  SUN  on  prisons  in  and  around  New  York  and  became  very  much  in- 
terested in  the  subject.  I  wrote  a  number  of  special  articles  about  Blackwell 
Island  penitentiary,  and  in  getting  the  material  for  them,  met  Louis  D.  Pilsbury, 
who  was  Warden  at  that  time.  Pilsbury's  father  was  Warden  of  the  Albany  peni- 
tentiary probably  in  the  late  60s  or  early  70s,  at  the  time  when  a  number  of 
the  Ku  Klux  Klan,  who  had  been  convicted,  were  serving  sentences  there.  Louis 
Pilsbury  was  a  young  man  at  the  time  and  became  well  acquainted  with  Shot- 
well,  who,  when  his  term  was  finished,  gave  him  this  diary.  Shotwell  was  either 
from  Virginia  or  the  Carolinas,  where  he  later  served  in  his  State  Legislature. 
I  have  no  doubt,  if  you  are  at  all  interested  in  running  this  thing  down,  it  would 
be  comparatively  easy  to  do  it.  Pilsbury  was  interested  in  the  stories  I  had 
written  about  the  Blackwell  Island  penitentiary  and  thought  that  possibly  I  might 
do   something  with   this   diary. 

Several  years  later  when  I  became  Asst.  City  Editor  of  the  SUN  and  did  a  good 
deal  of  magazine  work,  one  of  the  magazines  here  in  New  York  asked  me  to  do 
a  special  story  on  the  Klan,  basing  it  on  this  diary.  I  fully  intended  to  do  it, 
but  was  so  busy  with  other  work  that  I  never  got  around  to  it.  I  haven't  re-read 
it  since  that  time  and  I  am  not  sure  whether  there  is  anything  in  it  that  could  be 
used  or  not.  At  any  rate,  it  is  a  curiosity  of  an  interesting  period,  and  as  I  know 
that  you  will  value  it  more  than  I  do,  I  take  pleasure  in  passing  it  along  to  you. 

Cordially  yours, 
GEORGE  BARRY  MALLON. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  239 

Therefore  let  us  be  discreet,  and  if  we  must  look  at 
pretty  people,  let  us  say,  we  "seed  'em  in  our  dreams." 

By  the  way,  it  is  noticable,  and  characteristic  of  Yan- 
kee latitudes  that  there  are  more  lady  visitors  during 
the  pleasant  weather  season,  than  gentlemen.  Indeed 
I  think  they  are  the  most  numerous  the  year  round. 
Daily  and  hourly,  in  groups,  pairs,  and  singly,  young 
and  old,  with  and  without  male  escorts,  they  come,  and 
are  conducted  by  an  officer  to  see  the  cells,  yard,  shops, 
chapel,  etc.,  and,  of  course,  to  see  the  convicts  at  work. 
Strange  and  vulgar  curiosity  this!  I  cannot  imagine 
how  a  delicate  and  refined  lady  can  take  any  pleasure 
in  looking  at  a  lot  of  dirty  desperadoes  in  their  shirt 
sleeves!  I  know  many  Southern  girls  would  as  soon 
think  of  coming  to  kiss  me  as  going  without  an  escort 
to  a  Penitentiary  to  be  conducted  about  by  a  strange 
turnkey.  Yet  it  is,  I  believe,  a  legitimate  natural  trait 
of  feminine  character  to  have  a  curiosity  about  prisons, 
and  desperate  criminals;  and  of  course,  visitors  know 
that  they  are  just  as  safe  from  insult  or  indignity  here, 
as  if  they  had  an  hundred  male  protectors  in  their  train. 
It  therefore  only  shows  the  difference  in  custom  be- 
tween the  North  and  the  South  in  such  matters. 

July  21st.  Anniversary  of  the  battle  of  Bull  Run — 
when  the  Yankees  run.  How  varied  has  been  my  life 
since  that  day  eleven  years  ago.  I  was  then  a  long- 
haired, tall,  rather  dandified,  youth,  practicing  with  a 
pistol  in  the  groves  near  the  beautiful  village  of  Media 
in  Pennsylvania,  and  "murdering  the  King's  English" 
daily  in  my  recitations  to  the  paternal  Mr.  G.,  who  often 
prayed  that  the  war  might  be  stayed  before  [we?]  were 
drawn  into  it.  A  few  weeks  later,  and  I  was  running  the 
blockade  on  the  upper  Potomac,  under  a  heavy  fire  of 
musketry. 

July  24th.  The  popular  belief  about  Penitentiaries 
takes  it  for  granted  that  they  are  filled  by  abandoned 
reprobates  of  the  most  degraded  and  irredeemable  char- 
acter. The  very  name  of  "convict"  suggests  murder, 
manslaughter  and  all  the  more  serious  crimes;  and  the 
man  who  has  once  borne  it  is  shunned  like  a  dog  under 
a  paroxysm  of  hydrophobia.     I  speak  whereof  I  do 


240  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

know,  since  this  was  even  my  own  opinion  previous  to 
coming  here;  although  I  have  ever  been  disposed  to 
look  charitably  and  leniently  on  the  weaknesses  of  hu- 
man nature  where  they  were  not  deliberately  wicked, 
and  especially  if  redeemed  by  courage  and  generosity. 
Experience  has  better  informed  me  on  this  subject;  and 
I  now  see  that  the  public  greatly  errs  by  an  improper 
classification,  of  penitentiary  prisoners.  A  very  great 
distinction  should  be  made  in  favor  of  many  of  these 
unfortunate  persons;  for  they  are  neither  vagabond, 
brutal,  nor  irredeemable;  nor  are  they  so  deficient,  in 
the  moral  and  intellectual  attributes  of  a  respectable 
character,  and  good  citizen.  They  may  have  made  a 
slip;  but  who  is  altogether  blameless?  Many  of  them 
are  here  for  a  first  offence,  committed  under  circum- 
stances which,  while  they  do  not  excuse,  certainly  pal- 
liate the  deed.  ...  I  suppose  there  are  hundreds  of  cases 
within  the  recollection  of  every  criminal  lawyer,  in  which 
the  offense  would  have  been  passed  over  as  a  trifling  peca- 
dillo  if  the  machinery  of  the  law,  often  too  rigid  in  small 
things  to  the  exclusion  of  exact  justice,  had  permitted 
any  mitigation,  or  modification  of  the  penalty  in  those 
particular  cases.  Let  me  illustrate  with  an  instance  or 
two.  McN.  is  a  good  hearted  old  man,  in  a  good  busi- 
ness, and  two  years  ago  was  doing  well.  A  friend,  wish- 
ing his  endorsement  of  an  official  bond,  plied  the  old  man 
with  liquor  until  he  grew  rich  in  his  own  estimation,  and 
was  persuaded  to  certify  that  he  possessed  a  certain 
amount  of  property.  Arrested  soon  afterwards  for 
perjury,  he  was  convicted  and  sent  here  for  2  years.  He 
will  be  a  wiser  and  better  man  hereafter  I'm  sure.  A 
young  man,  clerk  in  post  office,  took  $7%  from  an  open 
letter  to  pay  a  pressing  board  bill.  He  was  sent  here 
for  10  years.  Another  says,  "I  went  on  a  picnic,  and 
drank  too  much,  and  wanting  more  liquor  arose  in  the 
night,  and  robbed  my  friend.  I  am  ruined,  but  I  swear 
I  meant  to  return  it."  Another,  "I  was  not  used  to 
drinking,  and  when  the  liquor  flew  to  my  head,  I  fell  to 
fighting,  and  here  I  am  for  assault  and  battery." 


The  Shotwell  Papers  241 

Ah !  thou  Demon  of  the  Still !     What  a  record  is  here 
of  thy  devilish  pranks !     Was't  thou  banished  from  the 
world  there  would  be  but  small  need  for  Penitentiaries ! 
*****  *i 

July  27th.  This  afternoon  I  remained  in  my  cell, 
feeling  too  ill  to  work.  Biliousness  and  cold  cause  it  I 
suppose.  It  is  the  second  attack  of  this  nature  I  have 
had  since  I  came  here.  The  Deputy  prescribes  pills,  of 
which  he  always  carries  a  box  in  his  pocket;  they  are 
supposed  to  cure  all  diseases.  Mr.  Reynolds,  the  Chap- 
lain, has  just  fetched  me  Russel's  Modern  Europe, 
Stephen's  Central  America,  and  Dick's  Celestial  Scen- 
ery, a  supply  of  reading  matter  which  I  was  glad  to  get, 
as  I  had  nothing;  the  overseer  taking  advantage  of  my 
absence  from  my  cell  door  to  slip  past  and  deprive  me 
of  my  regular  book  on  Sunday.  It  was  a  trifling  matter 
to  him  but  it  left  me  without  a  book  all  week.  Mr.  R. 
however,  very  opportunely  supplies  the  deficit,  and  I 
am  grateful  to  him  for  this,  and  other  acts  of  kindness 
he  has  shown  me. 

July  28th.  Addie  writes  that  it  is  strange  I  complain 
of  not  getting  letters,  as  "Some  of  the  family  write 
every  week;  Miss  M.  F.  every  two  weeks."  If  this  be 
true  (A  is  apt  to  take  things  for  granted,  and  suppose 
that  what  once  was  still  is)  it  is  plain  I  am  robbed  of 
scores  of  letters;  for  neither  the  weekly  nor  semi- 
monthly correspondence  reaches  me.  It  may  be,  how- 
ever, that  I  have  blamed  my  friends  for  neglecting  me 
when  I  ought  to  have  laid  the  fault  at  the  doors  of  the 
thievish  postmasters.  What  rascality  yet  remains  un- 
practised by  the  Mongrels? 

Addie  says  troubles  are  considered  at  an  end  in  Ruth- 
erford. The  refugees  are  returning  in  peace  and  safety. 
I  doubt  if  they  are  wise  in  doing  so.  The  appearance  is 
delusive  and  they  will  find  it  so  I  am  sure  before  long. 
But  if  it  be  true  that  the  clouds  are  dispersing,  and  calm 
settling  on  the  troubled  waters,  how  sad  is  my  fate !  For 
how  many  have  been  storm  tossed  I  only  have  been 
wrecked!  If  the  K.  K.  prosecutions  now  stop,  those  who 

1  A  discussion  of  the  classification  and  rehabilitation  of  prisoners  is  omitted. 


242  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

have  escaped  will  soon  begin  to  claim  that  they  are  in 
no  wise  implicated  and  that  we  who  are  sent  up  are  the 
only  really  guilty  parties.  Whereas  this  is  directly  con- 
trary to  the  truth,  our  misfortune  being  that  we  did  not 
run  away,  but  stood  our  ground,  relying  on  our  inno- 
cence ;  and  being  the  most  convenient  victims  whom  the 
Mongrels  could  find,  we  were  made  to  bear  the  full 
brunt  of  their  malice,  and  cruelty.  Many  of  the  actual 
"raiders"  are  now  at  home  in  peace. 

Mirabile  dictu!  L.  F.  C,  who  so  shamefully  inveighed 
against  the  Ku  Klux,  and  publicly  declared  in  a  speech 
in  the  court  room  that  every  Ku  Klux  ought  to  be  hung, 
is  now  the  candidate  of  the  Conservative  party  in 
Rutherford  and  Polk,  for  the  State  Senate!  Can  it  be 
that  members  of  the  Order  (and  one  half  of  the  Con- 
servative voters  in  Rutherford  were  connected  with  it) 
will  vote  for  this  man,  after  all  his  denunciations? 

July  29th.  Tired!  Tired!  Tired!  I  feel  like  a  man 
must  feel  after  walking  in  a  treadmill  until  he  can  walk 
not  a  step  farther.  It  is  not  that  the  work  I  have  is  so 
heavy,  though  among  the  heaviest  branches  of  the  trade ; 
but  the  exhaustion  arises  from  the  daily,  constant,  un- 
ceasing, hopeless,  uninteresting  drudgery,  which  makes 
my  life,  as  Sidney  Smith  would  say,  "a  state  of  sus- 
pended vitality."  No  one  who  has  not  undergone  it,  can 
conceive  of  the  mental  and  physical  nervousness,  fatigue, 
and  prostration,  caused  by  ten  hours'  hard  labor,  in  a 
crowded,  foul  smelling  room,  where  the  dust  is  almost 
tangible  as  it  flies,  and  the  noise  perfectly  distracting; 
where  one  is  surrounded  by  whirling  machinery  and  all 
the  senses  excited  and  cramped  at  the  same  moment; 
the  head  bowed,  the  eyes  fixed  on  the  object  in  hand,  and 
the  mind  wandering  to  a  thousand  objects  in  a  second! 
Repeated  day  after  day  for  weeks,  months,  years,  with- 
out hope  of  delivery,  this  strain  and  ennui  become  al- 
most unendurable,  often  threaten  insanity.  I  mean,  of 
course,  in  cases  of  persons  of  cultivated  tastes  and  men- 
tal sensibility.  Factory  hands,  and  that  sort  of  people, 
would  no  doubt  find  it  not  at  all  annoying.  And  yet  it 
is  without  question  a  similar  mental  and  physical  ex- 
haustion that  produces  the  intemperance,  and  low  mo- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  243 

rality  of  the  laboring  classes  in  all  manufacturing  towns. 
Mechanics,  and  factory  men  leaving  their  work  benches 
at  the  close  of  the  day,  feel  so  wretchedly  prostrated 
that  they  must  have  "a  drop  of  something"  to  brighten 
their  spirits,  while  in  addition  to  this  false  appetite  is  a 
violent  craving  for  amusement,  gaity,  "something 
lively,"  all  of  which,  for  the  men,  can  be  found  at  the 
grog  shop.  The  women,  young  girls,  are  driven  to  a 
private  bottle  and  the  "nice  young  feller"  who  brings  it. 
Thus  does  Nature  add  to  the  allurements  of  Vice  to  de- 
stroy these  poor  people. 

For  me  there  are  many  causes,  aside  from  the  forego- 
ing, to  create  depression  and  lassitude;  so  taken  all  to- 
gether the  dose  is  sometimes  over  heavy,  and  I  come  into 
my  cell  at  night  in  a  mood  for  mischief.  But  I  soon  get 
over  it,  and  in  time  I  trust  shall  take  every  feature  of  my 
suffering  with  decent  composure. 

Aug.  1st.  Phoebus !  what  a  climate !  Slept  little,  shiv- 
ered much,  under  two  blankets  last  night.  Today  it  is 
raining  and  cold,  and  I  am  decidedly  agueish.  In  N.  C. 
the  State  election  comes  off  today ;  there  is  much  excite- 
ment there.  I  shall  await  the  news  with  anxiety.  Surely 
if  the  people  are  not  utterly  blind,  or  basely  obsequious, 
they  will  testify  at  the  ballot  box  their  scorn  of  the  man, 
and  his  party  that  have  established  a  despotism  in  the 
State.  True,  Grant  has  been  sending  hundreds  of  thous- 
ands of  dollars  to  bribe  voters,  and  as  several  thousand 
of  the  best  conservatives  of  the  West  are  in  exile,  and 
thousands  of  others  frightened  out  of  their  wits,  all  the 
odds  will  be  in  his  favor,  to  say  nothing  of  his  holding 
the  polls  in  all  the  negro  majority  counties,  where  the 
boxes  may  be  stuffed  at  pleasure.  Nevertheless,  I  hope 
that  there  is  enough  true  blood  in  the  State  to  save  her 
from  the  degradation  of  endorsing  a  tyrant  who  has 
trampled  upon,  and  robbed  her  for  nearly  a  decade. 

Aug.  2d.  Grape  Vine  Dispatch — "Democrats  vic- 
torious in  N.  C.  Great  rejoicings!  100  guns  in  N.  Y." 
Noble  old  North  State !  If  this  news  be  true,  I  am  proud 
of  you. 

Aug.  3rd.  Democrats  reported  12000  ahead  in 
N.  C.I  Hurrah!  for  Horace  Greely!  The  Liberals  are 


244  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

firing  100  guns  in  Albany,  and  everywhere  the  news  is 
received  with  tremendous  enthusiasm.  I  need  not  say 
how  gratifying  this  intelligence  is  to  me,  since  I  take  it 
for  granted  that  on  Greeley  hang  my  only  hopes  of  liber- 
ation. 

Aug.  4th.  Capt.  P.  brought  me  a  letter  from  Genl. 
L.  and  told  me  there  could  be  little  doubt  that  we  have 
N.  C.  by  a  much  smaller  majority  than  was  supposed. 
Enough  is  good  as  a  feast;  still  I  am  sorry  to  hear  of 
this  reduction,  as  it  makes  the  State  doubtful  for  No- 
vember. Genl.  L.  writes  under  date  July  28  from  Pat- 
terson, in  the  kindest  manner.  He  is  the  Conservative 
candidate  for  State  Auditor,  and  will  make  an  excellent 
one.  There  is  no  better  man  for  the  position,  in  the  State. 
But  he  is  not  sanguine  of  election.  Says  Boutwell, 
Grant's  Treasurer  [sic]  has  been  to  Charlotte  to  make  a 
speech,  and  distribute  gold.  His  oratory  was  an  utter 
failure,  but  the  eloquence  of  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars  made  itself  felt;  and  [with?]  bribery,  illegal  vot- 
ing, stuffing  of  the  ballot-boxes,  and  intimidation,  the 
contest  may  result  in  a  Radical  triumph — not  the  first 
stolen  election  by  any  means.  Genl.  L.  says,  "My  wife 
gave  your  message  to  Annie  Jones  and  she  wrote  us  a 
note  full  of  kindness  and  sympathy."  Mrs.  L.  says  in  a 
postscript,  "I  often  think  and  speak  of  you  and  deeply 
sympathise  with  you  in  your  great  trials — indeed  all 
good  people  do;  and  all  know  that  it  is  a  shameful  cruel 
persecution  you  are  suffering  from." 

Considering  the  high  character  of  my  esteemed  cor- 
respondents, I  derive  unusual  comfort  and  satisfaction 
from  their  unmistakable  assurances  of  respect  and  sym- 
pathy. It  is  proper  that  I  should  say  furthermore  that 
I  do  not  copy  these,  or  other  extracts  from  my  private 
correspondence  from  any  feeling  of  vanity,  on  account 
of  remarks  in  my  praise;  but  solely  and  simply  to  pre- 
serve them  as  small  marks  of  the  outrage  which  has  been 
done  to  my  person  and  reputation.  In  after  years  if  the 
occasion  should  arise  they  will  be  valuable  as  evidence 
that  though  confined  in  a  Penitentiary  and  treated  as  a 
common  felon,  I  was  not  so  regarded  by  my  friends,  and 
the  contemporary  society  of  the  South. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  245 

As  a  specimen  of  the  marvelous  (in)  accuracy  of 
Northern  Historians  of  the  war  I  note  in  Kerney's 
Compendium,  the  following  errors  concerning  the  battle 
of  Leesburg,  which  the  author  calls  "Ball's  Bluff,"  al- 
though the  battlefield  is  no  part  of  Mr.  Ball's  property. 
"This  battle,"  he  says,  "was  fought  on  the  21st  of  Sep- 
tember 1861.  (wrong — 21st  October).  The  Union  forces 
under  Gen.  Banks  (wrong,  Banks  did  not  come  until 
after  the  battle.  Genl.  Stone,  was  the  Union  Com- 
mander,) were  defeated  by  the  Confederates  under  Col. 
Jenifer  (wrong — Lieut.  Col.  Jenifer  had  about  50  cav- 
alry in  the  neighborhood  but  they  took  no  part  in  the 
fight.  Genl.  N.  G.  Evans  was  our  General,  so-called 
though  not  on  the  field,  and  drunk  at  the  time)  Gen. 
Baker  was  killed  at  the  head  of  his  Division  (Colonel 
Baker  of  1st  Cala.  Regt.,  was  killed  at  the  head  of  his 
brigade  of  which  he  had  temporary  command)  etc.,  etc. 

These  are  but  trifling  errors  to  be  sure,  but  they  lie 
in  a  History  "prepared  especially  for  schools,"  and  pub- 
lished more  than  three  years  after  the  war,  they  are 
amusing  if  not  important.  All  these  Yankee  historians 
assert  that  Lee  had  more  than  an  hundred  thousand 
men  at  Gettysburg,  when  the  truth  is  he  had  but  little 
over  half  that  number.  No  wonder  the  Government 
takes  so  much  care  that  Confederate  Archives  shall  not 
see  the  light ;  they  would  show,  I  am  fully  satisfied  that 
we  continually  fought  against  three,  four,  five  times  our 
strength. 

Aug.  7th,  1872.  Stealthily  glancing  out  the  window 
this  morning  I  noticed  many  of  the  Ku  Klux  prisoners 
going  and  returning;  and  at  once  my  curiosity  was  ex- 
cited to  the  utmost ;  for  while  I  know  none  of  these  men, 
nor  am  I  identified  with  them  (they  being  from  another 
State)  I  took  it  for  granted  that  something  unusual 
was  in  progress.  Presently  I  was  called,  and  proceeding 
to  the  Hall,  met  Capt.  P.  who  whispered  to  me  that  Col. 
Whittley,  the  Chief  of  the  Detective  Bureau,  or  Secret 
Service  Corps  was  here  to  interrogate  the  prisoners — 
with  a  view  to  pardon  perhaps.  "I  thought  I  would  tell 
you  this  so  that  you  would  know  how  to  act,"  said  Capt. 
P.  Col.  Whitley  was  seated  at  a  table  with  a  clerk  to 


246  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

take  notes,  and  without  rising  or  showing  the  least  cour- 
tesy, he  began  his  examination  with  the  question,  "Well 
what  are  you  here  for?"  "I  can  hardly  say,  Sir;  the 
charge  against  me  was  connection  with  the  Klan,  and 
being  a  chief."  "Well,  were  you  a  chief?"  "I  believe  I 
was  chosen  to  such  a  position,  but  I  never  exercised  any 
authority  as  such."  "Well,  what  was  the  object  of  the 
order?"  "I  suppose  you  have  read  the  oath,  Sir;  that 
embodys  the  objects  of  the  order."  "No  I  dont  know 
anything  about  it,  what  did  you  mean  to  do?"  "To  sup- 
press crime  and  punish  such  offenders  as  the  lawful 
officers  neglected  to  punish."  "Well  but  you  had  no 
right  to  do  that;  you  were  violating  the  law."  "I  believe 
the  laws  were  made  for  our  protection  and  when  they 
fail  to  perform  that  duty,  we  must  act  on  Nature's  law 
of  self-preservation."  "So  ho!  you  are  for  doing  just  as 
you  please  in  a  lawless  violent  manner.  You  admit  that 
you  are  a  lawless  desperate  character."  "I  admit  no  such 
thing,  Sir;  I  have  not  given  you  nor  any  other  man 
grounds  to  form  such  an  opinion  of  me."  "Oh  very  well, 
I  haven't  time  to  argue,  Mr.  Pilsbury,  send  another 
man!"  "Good  morning  Col.  Whittley,"  said  I  as  I  left 
the  room;  but  he  made  no  acknowledgement.  Indeed  his 
whole  bearing  is  that  of  a  N.  C.  20-dollar  Lawyer,  who 
thinks  to  make  up  for  lack  of  brains  and  dignity  by  an 
assumption  of  brusqueness  (if  there  is  such  a  word). 
Thus  therefore  the  interview  closed;  and  I  suppose 
Whittley  will  take  good  care  to  misrepresent  me  at 
Washington,  and  utterly  cut  off  all  hope  of  release  if 
Grant  is  reelected.  Well,  so  be  it ;  if  there  is  no  help  for 
it.  I  shall  rather  stay  here  with  honor  than  go  out  upon 
my  knees,  for  offences  which  only  exist  in  the  foul  imagi- 
nations of  rogues  and  political  demagogues. 

Capt.  P.  tells  me  that  the  other  K.  K.  have  told  every- 
thing they  ever  did  or  thought  of  doing,  making  the  most 
piteous  appeals  for  pardon,  and  some  of  them  promising 
to  do  anything  the  Government  wishes  them  to  do,  if 
only  Grant  will  forgive  them  this  time,  etc.  The  cow- 
ardly loons !  But  of  course  not  all  were  so  low  and  con- 
temptible as  this.  Whittley  told  old  Squire  Brown  he 
lied,  and  repeated  the  offensive  language  more  than  once 


The  Shotwell  Papers  247 

because  Brown  protested  that  he  was  innocent  and  that 
he  did  not  have  a  fair  trial!  In  truth  he  was  perfectly 
insulting  to  every  one  of  the  prisoners  who  refused  to 
"confess"  (i.  e.  perjure  themselves)  and  humble  them- 
selves before  him. 

The  object  of  this  visit  is  plain  enough.  Grant  finds 
from  the  way  N.  C.  went  that  his  military  tyranny  is 
beginning  to  bear  some  fruit,  and  he  now  intends  to 
make  a  show  of  clemency  to  deceive  the  country.  But 
that  his  cause  be  not  weakened  so  much  as  a  single  vote, 
he  sends  his  Chief  Detective  here  to  "pump"  us,  and  see 
who  will  buy  their  liberty  at  the  expense  of  their  life- 
long principles.  Besides  he  will  now  be  able  to  get  out 
a  new  campaign  document,  to  wit,  the  "Horrible  Con- 
fessions" of  the  K.  K.  at  Albany. 

Aug.  8th.  Again  called  to  the  office  where  I  found 
a  reporter  of  the  N.  Y.  World,  come,  he  informed  me, 
to  get  the  statements  of  the  K.  K.  confined  here.  Flur- 
ried as  I  was,  and  unusually  nervous  from  having  slept 
little  last  night,  I  was  not  in  a  condition  to  command  my 
ideas  readily;  consequently  I  fear  I  gave  him  (who  took 
down  word  for  word)  anything  but  an  intelligible  ac- 
count of  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  Klan.  Still  what 
was  said  cannot  be  unsaid,  and  is  now,  I  suppose,  in 
print;  therefore  I  can  only  regret  that  I  had  not  time 
to  collect  my  thoughts,  nor  any  intimation  of  his  coming 
that  I  might  have  arranged  a  systematic  account  of 
transactions  in  connection  with  the  Ku  Klux  Krusade. 

I  have  before  mentioned  how  nervous  I  am  growing. 
This  is  getting  to  be  a  serious  matter,  and  I  must  try  to 
remedy  it,  though  I  know  not  how  to  begin. 

The  World  man  states  that  the  Radicals  have  cheated 
us  out  of  N.  C,  electing  Caldwell  by  near  one  thousand 
votes !  Great  Hercules !  What  are  we  coming  to  ?  Gold, 
Office,  and  Intimidation,  have  done  their  perfect  work, 
and  the  result  is  another  disgrace  to  the  State  and  the 
South ! 

The  Radicals  are  firing  100  guns  over  the  election. 
The  sound  is  mournful  enough  for  me ;  since  it  tells  that 
Greeley's  chances  are  small,  and  with  them  my  hopes  of 
release.  If  N.  C.  goes  for  Grant,  there  is  slight  showing 


248  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

for  the  other  Southern  states  which  have  a  larger  pro- 
portion of  negroes. 

Aug.  11th.  Letters  from  M.,  Annie  and  Jennie  and 
Miss  M.  F.  The  latter  writes  regularly.  It  seems  the 
postmasters  must  get  not  a  few  letters  of  mine.  They 
well  deserve  a  Ku  Klux  visit.  The  Rutherford  refugees 
are  returning  home,  and  are  expecting  me!  How  fool- 
ish !  It  will  be  many  a  long  day  before  I  get  home ! 

Aug.  12th.  The  Columbia  Phoenix  (or  Union) 
contains  a  dispatch  from  Washington,  dated  Aug.  3,  as 
follows : 

Gerrit  Smith  has  visited  the  Ku  Klux  prison- 
ers at  Albany  and  urges  clemency  in  the  case  of 
Saml.  G.  Brown,  aged  60,  who  plead  guilty  under 
bad  advice,  and  Hezekiah  Porter,  aged  19  who  is 
dying,  and  David  Collins.  Mr.  Smith  says  in  his 
letter  to  the  President  that  Shotwell,  one  of  the 
N.  C.  men  is  defiant,  scorns  a  pardon,  and  is  study- 
ing law.  He,  however,  suggests  that  these  pardons 
be  postponed  until  after  the  election  lest  it  be 
thought  that  the  clemency  was  prompted  by  inter- 
ested motives,  etc.,  etc. 

Now  if  Gerrit  Smith  wrote  any  such  stuff  as  that  to 
his  master  he  asserted  a  plain  lie.  The  idea  of  one  in  my 
situation  being  defiant  and  scorning  a  pardon  is  absurd. 
To  be  sure  I  shall  never  beg  pardon  on  my  knees  for 
crimes  of  which  I  am  innocent,  nor  abase  myself  to 
propitiate  the  ill  will  of  those  who  sent  me  here ;  but  for 
all  that  I  am  not  a  desperado,  and  if  a  returning  sense 
of  justice  on  the  part  of  my  oppressors  should  open  my 
prison  doors,  I  should  even  hail  the  boon  as  a  great  gift, 
although  I  could  feel  little  gratitude  for  the  restitution 
of  that  liberty  of  which  no  one  has  any  reason  or  right  to 
deprive  me. 

But  I  think  I  understand  this  announcement.  Mr. 
Smith  left  here — highly  pleased  with  me,  (Capt.  P.  has 
said  as  much)  but  being  stuffed  with  lies  and  calum- 
nies by  some  of  my  enemies,  he  thought  to  make  a  show 
of  severity  against  me  to  palliate  his  recommendation  of 
the  others  who  were  more  obsequious,  tho'  not  more  in- 
nocent. Yet  how  unjust  to  seek  to  deprive  a  man  of 


The  Shotwell  Papers  249 

every  chance  of  liberation  merely  because  he  boldly 
maintains  his  principles,  and  endeavors  to  improve  his 
few  hours  of  leisure  in  the  study  of  an  honorable  profes- 
sion! And  consider  Smith's  second  thought:  "Keep  these 
poor  old  ignorant  men  in  prison,  absent  from  their  des- 
titute and  sorrowing  families,  until  after  the  election. 
They  deserve  to  be  released,  but  for  the  looks  of  the 
thing  hold  'em  a  month  or  two  longer!"  Now  if  these 
men  are  worthy  of  clemency — and  God  knows,  and  I 
know  they  are — they  should  be  released  at  once;  every 
minute  they  are  unnecessarily  detained  is  a  crime.  Poor 
Porter  dont  need  their  pardon;  he  has  been  released  by 
an  higher  Power  than  Grant;  but  Brown  and  Collins 
are  grey  haired  old  men,  who  have  no  more  business  here 
than  Judge  Bond  who  sent  them. 

As  for  myself  I  feel  satisfied  that  I  may  as  well  accept 
the  situation  and  settle  down  for  my  full  term  of  six 
years  within  these  walls !  My  prospects  seem  clouded  in 
every  quarter ;  nor  is  there  anything  cheering  in  my  fu- 
ture. Not  a  star  shines  to  attract  my  gaze  in  the  dreary 
waste  which  stretches  away  from  my  prison  doors.  But  I 
vowed  when  I  came  here  not  to  be  broken  or  subdued  by 
the  degradation  to  which  my  enemies  had  reduced  me; 
and  I  mean  to  fulfil  my  vow.  And  hence  forward  I  shall 
try  to  cultivate  patience  as  an  habit  as  well  as  a  virtue. 

Aug.  14th.  N.  Y.  Herald  contains  a  5-column  re- 
port of  the  correspondent's  visit  to  the  Ku  Klux  here. 
He,  however,  only  saw  Brown,  Collins,  and  myself ;  and 
while  he  has  given  verbatim  et  literatim  our  statements, 
he  has  received  an  erroneous  idea  from  the  remarks  of 
Capt.  P.  that  most  of  the  other  prisoners  were  deplor- 
ably ignorant — hardly  one  remove  from  brutes.  This  is 
hardly  just.  Many  of  these  men  are  deplorably  ig- 
norant; but  they  are  sensible,  honest,  respectable,  well 
doing  men  of  the  small  farmer  class  in  South  Carolina. 
Having  none  of  that  smartness,  read-arid- write  accom- 
plishments of  most  Northern  men  of  their  station  in  life 
they  seem  to  Northern  eyes  much  more  illiterate  than 
they  really  are.  Many  a  Southern  man,  who  can  scarcely 
sign  his  own  name,  is  nevertheless,  a  thriving  honorable, 
hospitable,  and  high-spirited  person.  Without  doubt  the 


250  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

majority  of  the  Ku  Klux  here  are  poor,  ignorant,  and 
certainly  not  much  better  than  negroes,  so  far  as  social 
position  is  concerned.  But  they  have  feelings,  and  they 
have  rights,  and  they  are  an  integral  part  of  the  State, 
and  as  De  Toqueville  says — "No  citizen  is  so  obscure 
that  it  is  not  very  dangerous  to  allow  him  to  be  oppressed 
— no  private  rights  are  so  unimportant  that  they  can  be 
surrendered  with  impunity  to  the  caprices  of  govern- 
ment." 

The  very  fact  that  these  men  are  poor,  ignorant,  un- 
important persons  adds  to  the  ignominy  of  the  tyranical 
rulers,  who  sent  them  here;  because  men  of  their  class 
had  no  means,  talents,  nor  influence  to  protect  them- 
selves with ! 

I  hope  my  statement  will  find  its  way  into  the  papers, 
but  I  fear  it  will  not,  for  although  many  of  N.  C.  eds. 
are  K.  K.  themselves  they  are  too  much  frightened  to 
show  any  sympathy  or  even  interest  in  their  less  fortu- 
nate, because  less  cowardly,  comrades.  N'importe! 

Aug.  20th.  Whitley's  Report  has  been  published, 
and  as  I  anticipated  is  a  mixture  of  false  insinuation, 
and  pure  lie.  It  is  as  follows — 

col.  whitley's  report — he  recommends  the  pardon 

of  some  of  them. 

Col.  Whitley,  the  Chief  of  the  Secret  Service 
Division  dates  his  report  to  the  Attorney-General, 
New  York,  Aug.  9,  and  writes  as  follows : 

Sir :  I  have  the  honor  to  acknowledge  the  receipt 
of  a  communication  from  your  Department  under 
date  of  the  2d  inst.,  inclosing  a  copy  of  a  letter  from 
Gerrit  Smith,  addressed  to  the  President,  in  rela- 
tion to  those  convicts  in  the  Albany  Penitentiary 
who  were  convicted  for  violations  of  the  Enforce- 
ment Act,  and  requesting  me  to  go  to  Albany,  make 
a  thorough  investigation  into  the  condition  of  those 
persons,  and  report  to  the  Department  my  views  as 
to  the  expediency  of  exercising  Executive  clemency 
in  regard  to  any  of  them.  In  accordance  with  your 
request,  I  proceeded  to  Albany  on  the  7th  inst.  for 
the  purpose  of  fulfilling  the  duty,  assigned  me.  As 


The  Shotwell  Papers  251 

a  means  of  conducting  my  inquiries  in  a  manner 
best  adapted  to  arrive  at  all  the  facts  in  the  case, 
and  also  to  lead  the  prisoners  to  express  themselves 
as  freely  as  possible,  I  deemed  it  best  to  see  each 
of  the  parties  separately,  without  any  knowledge 
on  their  part  as  to  my  official  character  or  the 
object  of  my  visit.  In  this  I  received  the  fullest 
aid  of  Mr.  Louis  D.  Pillsbury,  head  keeper  of  the 
Penitentiary,  who  brought  each  prisoner  in  sepa- 
rately, with  the  simple  remark  to  each  that  "this 
gentleman  desires  to  talk  with  you." 

The  prisoners  were  mainly  frank  and  communi- 
cative. Some  of  them  are  very  poor  and  unlearned 
and  have  left  large  families  behind  them,  and  while 
acknowledging  that  they  were  members  of  the  va- 
rious orders  of  the  organization  known  under  the 
general  head  of  Ku  Klux  Klan,  and  that  they  had 
been  justly  sentenced  as  such,  plead  in  extenuation 
that  they  had  joined  the  order  without  a  full  knowl- 
edge of  its  aims  and  objects,  and  had  been  incited 
to  deeds  of  violence  by  their  leaders,  who  had  man- 
aged to  escape  from  the  country  leaving  them  to 
bear  the  responsibility  and  the  punishment  of  their 
misdeeds.  A  number  of  them  stated  that  they  had 
been  compelled  to  join  the  Order  to  save  themselves 
and  families  from  a  visitation  of  the  Klan.  Others 
had  entered  into  its  ranks  under  the  supposition 
that  it  was  a  society  organized  for  mutual  protec- 
tion, but  learned  subsequently  that  its  real  designs 
were  the  extirpation  of  the  negro  race,  and  the  driv- 
ing out  of  such  of  the  whites  as  were  in  favor  of  the 
political  equality  and  social  elevation  of  the  blacks. 
These  severally  expressed  the  heartiest  contrition 
for  their  misdeeds,  stated  that  the  organization  was 
one  inimical  to  the  best  interests  of  the  society,  and 
that  the  Government  was  fully  justified  in  break- 
ing it  up. 

In  further  extenuation  of  having  been  members 
of  the  Order  they  state  that  the  operations  of  the 
Klan  were  widespread,  embracing  within  its  folds 
men  of  superior  intellect,  to  whom  they  had  been 


252  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

accustomed  to  look  for  advice  and  counsel,  and 
whom  they  did  not  suppose  would  lead  them  into 
any  combination  that  contemplated  personal  vio- 
lence and  murder  if  these  were  necessary  for  the 
accomplishment  of  its  ends.  They  were  told  that  it 
was  a  good  institution,  one  to  put  down  meanness 
in  the  country,  and  they  accepted  the  statement  im- 
plicitly. About  forty  examinations  were  made  in  the 
manner  above  indicated,  neither  prisoner  knowing 
that  any  one  but  himself  had  been  called  out,  and 
none  of  them  being  aware,  as  before  observed,  of 
my  official  position  or  the  object  of  my  visit.  There 
was  a  singular  unanimity  in  these  statements,  and 
a  general  expression  of  regret  that  they  should 
have  been  drawn  into  an  organization  differing  so 
entirely  in  the  object  which  they  supposed  it  had 
in  view  when  they  joined  it. 

In  reply  to  the  general  question,  "What  were 
the  objects  of  the  organization?"  the  answer  was  al- 
most invariably,  "When  we  joined  the  order  we 
supposed  it  to  be  a  society  established  for  mutual 
protection;  but  after  having  been  fully  initiated, 
discovered  it  to  be  for  a  political  purpose,  which 
purpose  was  embodied  in  an  oath,  in  which  we 
swore  to  oppose  the  Radical  party,  in  all  its  forms, 
and  prevent  the  negroes  from  voting.  It  was  this 
great  deception  that  misled  us,  and  which  has 
brought  us  to  our  present  condition." 

The  contrition  manifested  by  many  of  these  pris- 
oners, the  healthy  abhorrence  expressed  by  them  for 
the  acts  into  the  commission  of  which  they  claim 
they  were  betrayed  by  unscrupulous  and  designing 
men,  of  more  enlightened  minds,  their  general  want 
of  intelligence  and  their  extreme  poverty,  all  appeal 
strongly  for  mercy.  My  views  as  to  the  expediency 
of  restoring  any  of  them  to  society  through  the  ex- 
ercise of  Executive  clemency,  are  clearly  in  favor  of 
such  a  course  with  some  portion  of  them ;  and  I  be- 
lieve it  may  be  done  in  some  of  the  cases,  not  only 
with  great  safety,  but  fully  in  the  interest  of  the 
public  good. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  253 

In  those  to  which  I  intend  respectfully  to  call 
your  attention,  the  prisoners  appear  not  only  truly 
repentant  but  absolutely  ashamed  of  the  courfce 
which  they  seem  to  have  unwittingly  pursued. 

Now  it  was  tolerably  certain  that  Whitley  came  here 
for  no  other  purpose  than  to  extract  confession  and  in- 
formation from  the  poor  heart-sick  prisoners  whom,  it 
was  supposed,  the  prospect  of  obtaining  a  pardon  would 
induce  to  criminate  themselves,  and  make  any  sort  of 
acknowledgments.  The  result  to  some  extent  justified 
the  expectation  although,  notwithstanding  Whitley's 
cunning,  and  shameful  sophistry  by  which  he  made  many 
of  the  ignorant  men  admit  more  than  they  meant  or  were 
aware  of,  he  was  obliged  to  call  to  his  aid  all  his  powers 
of  lying  and  false  insinuation  to  make  his  paper  the 
views  of  his  Radical  employers.  To  explain  this  remark 
I  must  state  that  the  manner  in  which  he  framed  his 
questions  was  that  in  which  lawyers  are  said  to  lead  a 
witness  at  the  bar ;  and  as  nearly  all  of  the  prisoners  are 
miserably  ignorant  and  illiterate  men,  it  was  not  diffi- 
cult to  confuse,  browbeat  and  "draw  them  out"  into  any 
sort  of  "confessions"  he  desired.  For  instance  he  asked 
me  if  I  did  not  know  certain  deeds  were  contrary  to  law. 
I  replied  that  they  were  perhaps  contrary  to  the  "Ku 
Klux  Bill,"  but  that  the  law  of  self  preservation  being  the 
first  law  of  Nature,  we  were  obliged  to  act,  because  the 
regular  officers  of  the  law  failed  to  protect  us.  "Then," 
said  he  "you  admit  that  you  are  a  desperate  lawless 
character,"  and  although  I  vehemently  [repudiated] 
any  such  forced  construction  of  my  language  he  refused 
to  hear  me,  and  called  another  man.  Doubtless  many 
others  were  made  to  appear  criminal  by  just  such  style 
of  examination,  who  were  far  more  innocent  than  him- 
self. However,  I  suppose  that  some  dozen  or  two  ( out 
of  the  75)  did  actually  "confess;"  and  bleat  most  pite- 
ously  for  pardon  (thus  showing  that  Whitley  lied  when 
he  said  we  were  unaware  of  his  office,  and  motives)  but 
all  who  abased  themselves  in  this  contemptible  manner 
were  men  of  the  very  lowest  class,  and  of  little  more  con- 
sequence in  their  communities  than  the  same  number  of 
negroes.  And  so  far  as  I  can  learn  they  all  are  the  very 


254  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

worst  criminals  who  have  been  tried.  But  this  only  veri- 
fied what  I  have  observed  from  the  beginning  of  the  Ku 
Klux  War,  that  those  who  were  most  lawless  and  turbu- 
lent as  "Raiders"  are  the  very  first  to  "confess"  and  be- 
come persecutors  of  their  innocent  comrades. 

Aug,  21st,  Did  not  go  out  to  work,  being  unable  to 
stand  on  my  ulcerated  leg.  This  is  a  revival  of  Lusk's 
grudge  against  me,  since  it  arises  from  the  wounds  he 
inflicted  on  me  in  Asheville  at  the  time  I  caned  him.  It 
is,  by  the  way,  a  curious  coincidence  that  I,  who  became 
embroiled  in  a  personal  affray,  and  received  more  than 
one  wound,  in  the  cause  of  the  arrested  Ku  Klux  in 
Madison  County  (when  I  was  not  even  a  member  of 
the  order)  should  afterwards  be  sent  to  the  Penitentiary, 
for  complicity  in  the  deeds  of  the  Order  (alleged  com- 
plicity I  mean),  and  be  prosecuted  by  the  very  man 
whom  I  had  caned  on  the  former  occasion.  And  that 
while  I  took  up  the  cause  of  utter  strangers,  and  did 
much  to  secure  their  release  and  vindication,  now  I  am 
left  without  a  dog  to  wag  his  tail  in  my  favor!  Was  I 
wrong  then;  or  are  my  "friends"  (so-called)  wrong 
now?  Exceedingly  out  of  heart  all  day.  The  life  I  am 
leading  is  miserable,  the  future  miserably  dark ! 

Aug,  22nd,  Rumored  that  Collins,  Scruggs,  Owens, 
and  Teal  have  been  pardoned.  C.  and  S.  are  old  men — 
very  ignorant — and  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and 
belief — not  guilty  in  the  least  degree.  Collins'  case,  I 
have  alluded  to ;  Scruggs'  is  pretty  much  the  same.  Both 
were  decoyed  out  of  their  State  on  charitable  errands, 
then  arrested,  leaving  their  families  destitute,  and  over- 
whelmed with  terror,  and  after  being  carried  300  miles 
away  from  their  acquaintance,  where  it  was  impossible 
to  produce  any  evidence  in  their  favor,  were  tried  and 
sentenced  to  four  and  three  years  (respectively)  in  a 
distant  penitentiary,  for  no  other  crime  than  mere  con- 
nection with  the  Klan,  to  which  every  respectable  man 
in  their  county  (including  their  own  ministers,  lawyers, 
doctors  etc.)  also  belonged!  And  now  at  last  there  is  a 
prospect  of  their  getting  back  to  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren! I  am  glad  of  it;  although  I  doubt  if  be  true.  As 
for  Teal,  he  was  among  the  most  active  of  the  "Raiders," 


The  Shotwell  Papers  255 

and  one  of  the  first  to  "puke;"  and  would  have  got  off  if 
he  had  known  more  than  he  did.  But  after  debasing  him- 
self (if  that  were  possible)  he  was  sent  here. 

Aug.  23rd.  Confined  in  cell  by  my  sore  leg.  'Tis  as 
unpleasant  here  as  in  the  shops  from  various  causes. 

Aug.  27th.  Capt.  P.  informs  me  that  the  pardons 
issued  to  B.  C.  S.  and  T.  have  been  rescinded,  at  the 
instance  of  certain  parties  (Mongrels  of  course)  in 
N.  C.  and  S.  C.  who  wrote  letters  to  Washington  stating 
that  these  men  were  violent  and  disreputable  characters, 
who  had  occasioned  great  trouble  to  their  neighbors  dur- 
ing the  war,  and  would  be  likely  to  take  revenge  for 
their  imprisonment  by  acts  of  murder,  arson,  etc.,  etc. 
What  infernal  and  malicious  lies  are  these !  More  peace- 
able men  than  Collins  and  Scruggs  could  not  be  found 
in  any  community;  they  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  an 
opinion  of  their  own;  and  would  never  wander  out  of 
their  own  corn  patch  if  permitted  to  return  to  it.  But  the 
basest  falsehood  coming  from  a  negro  or  meaner  white 
man  is  accepted  for  truth  by  the  Radical  Administration 
so  long  as  it  coincides  with  the  malignant  and  tyrannical 
policy  of  their  party  leaders. 

I  thought  it  doubtful  whether  these  men  would  get 
out ;  and  now — I  know  I  was  right. 

Aug.  8 1st.  For  four  days  have  been  confined  in  cell, 
suffering  not  a  little  from  my  ankle.  The  Doctor  pro- 
nounces it  a  varicose  ulcer,  caused  by  incessant  standing 
in  the  shops.  It  requires  much  philosophy  and  more  pa- 
tience to  get  along  in  these  times.  Twice  a  day  the  Dep- 
uty comes — "Well,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  "I 
have  a  sore  leg,  Sir."  "Put  some  kerosene  oil  on  it,"  and 
so  I  rest,  until  he  comes  again.  This  man  is  an  excellent 
officer;  indeed  there  could  hardly  be  a  better  one;  but 
he  has  become  so  accustomed  to  ordering  the  reprobates, 
that  he  forgets  himself  when  speaking  to  a  gentleman, 
and  (sometimes)  uses  a  tone  that  is  extremely  humili- 
ating for  him  who  has  to  hear  it  without  remark.  I  judge 
that  he  is  in  some  measure  unconscious  that  he  is  giving 
pain;  for,  he  generally  appears  to  be  friendly  disposed 
towards  me.  But  such  trifles  as  these  make  life  exceed- 


256  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ingly  irksome  just  at  present.  And  when  shall  I  be  bet- 
ter off! 

Sept.  1st,  1872.  Letters  from  M.,  M.  F.,  and  C.  G. 
Dawson  of  Atlantic,  Cass  Co.,  Iowa.  The  latter  writes 
to  ask  if  I  am  the  same  "R.  A.  Shotwell  of  the  8th  Va. 
(Rebel)  Regt.  who  saved  my  life  on  the  battlefield?" 
If  so,  nothing  would  please  me  better  than  to  hear  from 

you." 

Correct!  Charles — tis  the  very  same  long  haired 
youth,  who,  about  this  time,  ten  years  ago,  came  "over 
the  water  to  Charlie."  How  happy  were  those  days — 
full  of  hardships  and  dangers  as  they  were — in  com- 
parison with  these!  I  would  rejoice  to  be  with  you,  or 
even  to  write  to  you,  Mon  ami,  but  these  pleasures  are 
denied  me  at  present.  But  I  judge  you  have  read  my 
statement,  which  will — must — suffice. 

M.  is  still  puzzled  about  a  choice  of  profession,  says 
he  is  waiting  advice  from  father  but  I  suppose  he  has  no 
money  to  pay  his  board  bill  and  can't  get  away  from  it. 
Well  he  does  not  want  to  go  South  at  any  rate,  as  he 
has  become  infatuated  with  the  P.  girls. 

Ma  chere  amie  writes  sadly,  though  ever  kind  and 
sympathetic.  She  mentions  a  long  letter,  giving  "all  the 
news,"  mailed  a  few  days  previous,  but  which  as  usual 
failed  to  come  to  hand.  Nor  had  she  rec'd  my  letters  to 
her  of  May  and  June  2nd.  Those  rascally  postmasters, 
how  mean  they  must  be,  to  seek  to  persecute  a  man  after 
he  has  been  swallowed  up  in  a  distant  penitentiary ;  aye, 
and  to  rob  him  of  the  only  comfort  he  has — the  pleasure 
of  an  occasional  line  from  his  friends ! 

But  we  can  expect  no  better  of  men  (Southerners) 
who  can  sell  themselves  to  Grant  for  the  beggarly  salary 
of  a  country  post  office  in  the  South;  of  course  I  dont 
mean  to  include  all  post  masters  in  this  category;  for 
some  take  the  office  for  convenience  sake,  or  at  the 
urgent  request  of  their  friends,  not  because  they  are 
Mongrels.  But  unfortunately  none  of  these  reliable  men 
have  lately  held  the  offices  where  my  letters  are  mailed, 
and  delivered.  Hinc  ilia  lachrymae. 

Alas !  my  friend  sends  me  intelligence — anything  but 
cheering;  although  I  am  glad  to  know  the  worst.  Just 


The  Shotwell  Papers  257 

as  I  predicted  the  apparent  peace  and  tranquillity  in 
Rutherford  was  delusive,  a  snare  laid  to  catch  gulls. 
Many  of  the  refugees,  supposing  that  the  troubles  were 
finally  appeased;  that  no  more  victims  were  wanted; 
returned  home,  and  began  to  show  themselves.  When 
suddenly  the  Man  Hunters  and  Yankees  flew  in  every 
direction  to  spring  the  trap,  and  must  have  taken  much 
game,  as  Miss  F.  states  that  30  were  bagged  in  a  single 
day!  Rutherford  jail  is  again  full,  and  the  Devil  holds 
high  carnival  in  the  county.  B.  F.  and  others  of  my  ac- 
quaintance were  spry  enough  to  give  "leg  bail,"  and 
postpone  their  cases  until  another  time.  Well,  well,  it 
is  not  worth  while  for  me  to  worry  any  longer  about  it. 
Have  been  reading  a  diverting  book  (Parisian  Amer- 
ica) by  Ed  Laboulaye,  the  well  known  French  author. 
But  I  mention  it  chiefly  to  quote  a  passage  from  it.  The 
author  was  one  of  the  warmest  friends  of  the  North 
during  the  late  war;  he  still  approves  of  Radical  treat- 
ment of  the  South;  the  Abolition  of  slavery  being  his 
pet  theme,  upon  which  he  raves.  Yet  in  this  book,  he 
says,  (speaking  of  the  French) 

To  fling  liberty  to  an  enslaved  people  is  to  en- 
trust children  with  a  weapon  which  will  explode  in 
their  hands,  Why?  Because  respect  for  one's  self 
and  for  others,  the  feeling  of  right,  the  love  of 
justice,  the  essential  conditions  of  Liberty,  are  not 
articles  of  the  law;  they  are  not  decreed;  they  are 
virtues  which  the  citizen  acquires  by  dint  of  pa- 
tience and  practice.  So  long  as  liberty  does  not  live 
in  the  soul,  it  is  but  as  sounding  brass,  a  tinkling 
cymbal;  when  once  it  has  entered  into  our  very 
essence  all  the  artifices  and  fury  of  tyrants  will  not 
wrest  it  from  us. 

All  this  is  very  well  per  se;  but  it  sounds  somewhat 
inconsistently  coming  from  an  apologist  of  the  subju- 
gation of  the  Southern  people  to  the  supremacy  of  the 
ignorant,  brutal,  and  recently  manumitted  negroes ! 

But  Laboulaye,  after  all  is  not  so  bad;  inconsistent, 
I  mean,  as  that  old  Radical  Abolitionist,  Horace  Mann 
of  Bostmpr.  Hear  him  on  the  same  subject! 


258  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

The  human  imagination  can  picture  no  semblance 
of  the  destructive  potency  of  the  ballot-box  in  the 
hands  of  an  ignorant  and  corrupt  people.  The 
Roman  cohorts  were  terrible,  the  Turkish  Janiza- 
ries were  incarnate  fiends,  but  each  were  powerless 
as  a  child  for  harm  compared  with  universal  suf- 
frage without  mental  illumination  and  moral  prin- 
ciple. The  power  of  casting  a  vote  is  far  more 
formidable  than  that  of  casting  spear  or  javelin. 
On  one  of  those  oft  recurring  days  when  the  fate 
of  the  state  or  of  the  United  States  is  to  be  decided 
at  the  polls ;  when  all  over  the  land  votes  are  falling 
thick  as  hail,  and  we  seem  to  hear  them  rattle  like 
the  clangor  of  arms,  it  is  enough  to  make  the  lover 
of  his  country  turn  pale  to  reflect  upon  the  motives 
under  which  they  may  have  been  given  and  the  con- 
sequence to  which  they  may  lead  ....  If  they  ema- 
nate from  wise  counsels  and  loyalty  to  truth,  they 
will  descend  like  benedictions  from  Heaven  to  bless 
the  land  and  fill  it  with  songs  and  gladness,  such  as 
never  have  been  known  on  earth  since  the  days  of 
Paradise.  But  if  on  the  other  hand  these  votes  come 
from  ignorance  and  crime,  the  fire  that  rained  on 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah  would  be  more  tolerable! 

Can  any  Southerner  draw  a  stronger  argument 
against  negro  suffrage? 

Sept.  2  and  3rd.  Off  duty  on  account  of  my  lame 
leg,  which  is  exceedingly  painful.  Genl.  P.  and  lady  re- 
turned from  Europe.  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  it.  Am  less 
liable  to  get  into  trouble  while  he  is  here.  Am  reading 
Russell's  Modern  Europe. 

Sept.  4th.  Off  duty  and  blue  as  indigo.  It  has  been 
an  exceedingly  dull  day,  have  nothing  to  read  and  little 
of  an  agreeable  nature  to  think  about.  This  sort  of  day 
is  becoming  monstrously  common  with  me,  although  I 
try  to  prevent  it.  It  may  seem  strange  that  I  do  not 
study;  but,  indeed,  one  might  as  well  attempt  to  write 
as  he  walked  in  a  crowded  street.  There  are  almost 
momentary  interruptions,  and  many  other  causes  to  di- 
vert the  mind. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  259 

But  perhaps  more  than  that  is  the  doubt  which  fills 
my  mind  as  to  my  future  life,  i.  e.,  what  profession  would 
be  most  suitable  for  me  upon  my  reentrance  to  society. 
The  Law  has  ever  been  my  favorite  study;  yet  this  may 
be  the  most  unprofitable  and  embarrassing  line  of  life 
I  could  adopt.  The  fact  that  I  have  been  confined  in  a 
penitentiary — innocent  though  I  am — will  always  be  a 
dead  weight  upon  my  shoulders  in  public  life,  especially 
were  I  to  aspire  to  eminence  at  the  Bar.  Upon  the  whole, 
therefore,  I  feel  that  I  am  not  for  the  law,  or  rather  the 
law  is  not  for  me;  and  so  up  comes  the  question:  "To  be 
or  not  to  be?" 

Hence  I  judge  that  it  is  best  to  employ  my  time  in 
the  acquisition  of  general  information  that  may  be  of 
service  to  me  in  an  editorial  career. 

Sept,  6th.  The  Babies-Crop  must  have  been  mon- 
strously fruitful  in  this  latitude  during  the  past  year  or 
two;  for  our  whole  force  is  now  employed  in  the  manu- 
facture of  children's  shoes;  of  which  we  turn  off  more 
than  2000  pairs  daily.  Seeing  the  never-ceasing  stream 
of  chubby  toes  pouring  from  bench  to  bench,  one  might 
wonder  that  there  were  youngsters  enough  in  the  land 
to  need  the  half  of  them.  But  this  perhaps  is  not  "talking 
like  a  father." 

Sept.  8th.  Sultriest  morning  of  the  season.  Suffered 
all  night  from  feverish  condition  of  my  leg.  Nothing  by 
the  mails  from  N.  C.  I  am  utterly  disgusted. 

Sept.  15th.  Another  week  without  a  word  from 
N.  C.  I  shall  never  forget  the  neglect  I  received. 

Sept.  19th.  Deputy  was  severely  cut  in  the  head  by 
a  refractory  convict. 

Sept.  20th.  Genl.  Pilsbury  came  to  the  shops;  and 
calling  me  aside,  told  me  he  should  have  come  down  to 
see  me,  but  he  felt  too  old  and  infirm  to  go  about  much 
now.  Did  I  eat  my  rations?  Yes,  Sir,  I  eat  at  them.  He 
advised  me  to  keep  cheerful,  and  promised  to  allow  me 
an  extra  letter  on  Sunday. 

Sept.  21.  Atmosphere  becoming  purer  in  my  vicin- 
ity owing  to  the  release  of  the  darkey  on  my  left  and 
one  in  front.  I  wish  it  had  happened  earlier  in  the  sum- 


260  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

mer.  But  after  all  the  negroes  are  no  worse  than  the 
whites  of  the  class  who  are  sent  here. 

The  vagabond  on  my  right  hand  hourly  picks  off  (off 
himself)  the  largest  kind  of  lice,  which  he  plays  with  on 
the  bench  in  unblushing  contempt  for  decency  or  man- 
liness. There  are  hundreds  just  like  him. 

Sept.  23.  I  felt  quite  unwell  yesterday  morning,  but 
went  out  to  walk  and  soon  was  shaking  with  a  severe 
chill.  Deputy  gave  me  an  extra  blanket  and  an  opium 
and  camphor  pill,  and  I  spent  the  day  in  a  stupor — 
dreaming  dreams  and  seeing  no  end  of  curious  visions. 
It  was  the  anniversary  of  the  day  of  my  sentence  and, 
as  may  be  supposed  my  thoughts  were  by  no  means 
pleasant  on  the  subject.  The  Genl.  sent  me  a  double 
sheet  of  paper  but  I  was  too  sick  to  write. 

Sept.  29th.  Extracts  from  father,  without  a  word  of 
comment.  No  wonder  the  Genl.  should  think  it  strange 
that  envelopes  could  come,  when  there  was  not  a  writ- 
ten line  in  them.  He  was  not  aware  that  nothing  was 
sent.  Discouraging  news  about  Greeley's  chances.  De- 
feat is  now  tolerably  certain,  and  with  his  defeat  comes 
certainty  that  I  shall  not  get  out  any  time  short  of  my 
full  term. 

Oct.  2nd.  Foreman  of  the  shop  offers  to  put  me  in 
an  easy  position  (Examiner  of  shoes  when  finished) 
provided  I  am  likely  to  remain  here  an  year  or  longer. 
Told  him  I  could  not  answer  until  after  the  Penna.  and 
Ohio  elections.  If  they  go  for  Grant,  the  jig  is  up — 

And  I  am  flung — sky-high — and  more  than  that; 

The  man  whose  praise  I  have  sung, 

With  pen,  with  pencil,  and  with  tongue 

Will  go;  must  go,  will  go — go — go 

Up  Salt  River,  with  his  "White  hat."— Dog  Bell. 

Oct.  3d.  The  weather  is  quite  cold,  and  fires  not  be- 
ing started,  we  are  quite  uncomfortable.  My  spirits  are 
decidedly  at  low  ebb. 

Oct.  5th.  Georgia  reported  for  Greeley  by  25,000! 
First  encouragement  of  the  season. 

Oct.  6th.  Two  or  three  uninteresting  newspapers 
sent  by  F.  "Only  this  and  nothing  more.,,  'Tis  provok- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  261 

ing.  No  one  seems  to  have  any  idea  that  I  am  interested 
in  political  matters;  yet  they  might  know  I  have  the 
deepest  interest  in  every  occurrence  of  the  campaign 
for  upon  it  depends  my  continuance  here.  Besides  I 
have  been  accustomed  to  keeping  up  with  the  news  of 
the  day.  But  'tis  useless  to  complain — I  have  tried  it. 

Oct.  7  th.     "Just  one  year  ago  today 

As; I  remember  well" — I  passed  beneath 
the  portals  6f  Albany  Penitentiary.  Unhappy  Anniver- 
sary! The  year. has  been  one  unremittent  round  of  hard- 
ships, trials,  and  sufferings,  physical  and  mental,  such 
as  I  could  not  have  conceived  possible  to  be  borne.  Yet 
I  am  alive,  comparatively  well,  and  looking  forward  to 
other  years  of  the  same  kind  of  life !  Strange  vitality  of 
the  soul — strange  tenacity  of  existence — that  makes  us 
bear  all  this,  rather  than  cut  loose  adrift  on  an  unknown 
sea!  'Twas  a  cowardly  saying  of  Shakespeare's  "better 
to  bear  the  ills  we  have,  than  fly  to  those  we  know  not 
of."  All  happiness  has  been  discovered  by  adventurers 
into  the  great  Unknown,  the  untried. 

One  thing  comforts  me  for  my  long  confinement;  I 
have  learned  a  deal  of  experience,  patience,  and  worldly 
wisdom  that  I  should  not  have  gathered  so  soon  under 
any  other  circumstances.  May  I  not  hope  to  say  with 
Kossuth,  "So  many  years  lost,  but  all  my  after  life 
gained?"  So  mote  it  be! 

Oct.  9.  An  end  to  hope!  Pa.,  Ohio,  and  Indiana, 
casting  76  electoral  votes  go  for  Grant  by  unheard-of 
majorities!  Greeley  and  Brown  may  as  well  haul  down 
their  flag.  The  despot,  with  his  moneyed  ring  and  Rad- 
ical Clique,  is  too  strong  for  the  honest  men  of  the  coun- 
try. Hie  gloria  etc. — respublicae!  Hence  forward  the 
march  of  the  monarchy  shall  not  be  slow;  a  third  term, 
and  an  increase  of  the  army  is  all  that  is  wanted  to  pre- 
pare the  way  for  the  coup  d'etat. 

To  me  this  is  a  serious  blow,  since  upon  Mr.  Greeley 
hung  all  my  hopes.  But,  as  I  have  so  often  remarked, 
'tis  useless  to  repine. 

Oct.  11th.  Abominable  climate!  The  mornings  un- 
pleasantly cool,  hot  at  noon,  and  freezing  in  our  cells  at 


262  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

night.  I  have  a  disagreeable  cold  in  the  head  and  my 
mental  thermometer  descends  with  the  caloric — As 
Stoddard  has  it — 

I  am  weary  and  gray 
And  my  thoughts  fly  away 
Like  a  long  flight  of  cranes 
On  a  dark  autumn  day. 

They  go  till  they  find 
The  warm  sunshine  and  wind 
But  my  autumn  remains 
And  my  darkness  of  mind. 

Oct.  13th.  Penna.  gives  Grant  35000!  Ohio  and  In- 
diana similar  majorities!  A  monstrous,  inexplicable, 
ruinous  fatuity  of  the  people !  No  wonder  the  President 
dare  usurp  dictatorial  powers,  and  establish  his  sham 
courts  and  armed  cohorts  upon  the  necks  of  Southern 
men.  Never  were  fraud,  force,  bribery,  and  open  dese- 
cration of  the  elective  franchise  more  boldly  and  thor- 
oughly exposed,  than  has  been  done  by  the  Liberal  writ- 
ers and  speakers.  Yet  for  all  that,  Grant  sweeps  the 
country  with  unparalelled  success.  The  key  to  it  can 
only  be  the  degeneracy,  indifference,  and  corruption  of 
the  Nation.  Men  would  not  stand  by  and  see  a  throne 
erected  in  their  midst  if  they  did  not  feel  satisfied  the 
days  of  the  Republic  are  numbered.  This  sort  of  thing 
cannot  last,  thank  God.  It  will  continue  to  grow  worse 
until  they  whose  interest  it  is  to  .  .  .  / 

Oct .  14th.  Capt.  P.  brought  me  a  letter  from  father, 
mailed  at  Charlotte  and  conveying  some  unpleasant 
news.  It  appears  that  another  scurrilous  article  about  me 
has  been  copied  from  the  N.  Y.  Herald  by  several  of  the 
State  papers  and  has  occasioned  considerable  uneasiness 
to  my  "friends"  (so-called). 

I  have  just  finished  a  communication  for  the  N.  C. 
papers,  which  I  send  with  the  following,  under  cover  to 
Gov.  Vance  at  Charlotte. 

l  There  is  a  break  in  the  manuscript  here. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  263 

Albany  Penitentiary, 
Oct.  14th.  1872. 
Hon.  Z.  B.  Vance 

Charlotte  N.  C.  Dear  Sir:  A  recent  letter  from 
father  informs  me  that  he  will  be  in  Charlotte  about 
this  time  and  will  likely  enjoy  your  hospitality.  He 
likewise  informs  me  that  my  friends  have  been  ren- 
dered somewhat  uneasy  by  a  new  calumny  set  afloat 
by  the  enemy,  and  copied  by  your  city  papers.  I 
have  therefore  prepared  a  card  for  publication,  but 
as  I  have  been  a  close  prisoner  for  over  12  months, 
and  have  had  no  intelligence  from  N.  C,  since  the 
first  of  the  year  except  a  note  or  two  from  Gen.  L, 
I  am  not  sure  that  I  shall  act  judiciously  by  again 
appearing  in  print.  I  take  the  liberty,  therefore,  to 
submit  the  enclosed  communication  or  card  for  your 
consideration,  leaving  it  altogether  discretionary 
with  you  to  eject  the  whole  or  any  part  of  it.  If 
deemed  advisable  please  enclose  it  to  the  editor  of 
the  Charlotte  Democrat,  the  Sentinel,  or  such  other 
paper  as  may  be  most  convenient  for  you,  and  send 
me  a  copy. 

I  am  the  more  sensitive  on  the  subject  treated  of 
in  my  card  because  now  that  my  prospects  for  re- 
lease have  been  withered  along  with  Mr.  Greeley's 
by  the  October  blasts  from  Penna.  and  Ohio,  I  feel 
an  increased  desire  for  the  respect  and  sympathy 
of  the  better  classes  of  our  people  during  the  pro- 
tracted and  irksome  confinement  before  me.  All  I 
have  left  is  some  little  reputation  for  conduct  as  a 
soldier,  and  for  zeal  and  firmness  as  an  editor — 
both  in  defence  of  my  State.  Let  me  preserve  this, 
and  please  God,  I  shall  greatly  better  it  when  once 
more  restored  to  liberty.  All  my  leisure  time  (which 
however  is  but  little)  I  employ  in  the  study  of  his- 
tory and  the  elements  of  law,  seeking  to  fit  myself 
to  resume  the  tripod  at  the  earliest  opportunity. 
I  have  been  fortunate  in  having  had  good  health, 
and  although  suffering  from  many  privations  and 
discomforts  am  usually  cheerful  and  patient.  I  un- 
dergo the  same  labor  and  discipline  with  the  felo- 


264  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

nious  class  here:  But  I  have,  I  think,  the  respect 
and  confidence  of  the  officers — the  superior  officers 
at  least — and  I  have  never  received  a  reprimand 
since  I  came  here.  I  allude  to  these  personal  matters 
thinking  possibly  you  may  meet  with  some  friends 
to  whom  they  might  be  of  interest.  Hoping  to  have 
your  favorable  influence,  and  with  warm  assurances 
of  esteem, 

I  remain,  Governor, 

Your  obedt.  Sevt. 
R.  A.  S. 

My  card  for  publication  will  pretty  effectually  quash 
all  rumors  of  the  kind  or  prevent  their  gaining  circula- 
tion in  future,  I  think.  That  at  least  I  wish.  As  for  the 
author  of  the  canard  in  question,  there  can  be  do  doubt 
that  it  originated  with  either  C.  L.  Cobb,  or  Lieut.  Mc- 
Ewan,  and  is  merely  a  malicious  exaggeration  of  our 
interview  on  the  Bait.  Steamer.  I  did  indeed  admit  that 
I  had  been  a  member  of  the  order ;  but  this  I  have  never 
denied.  But  as  for  "confessing,"  "offering  to  stump  for 
Grant"— Bah! 

Oct.  15th.  Genl.  P.  gave  me  a  slip  from  the  Albany 
Argus,  detailing  the  recent  attempt  to  blow  up  the  Ral- 
eigh Sentinel  Office.1  When  the  printers  were  absent  on 
Saturday  night  a  keg  of  powder  was  placed  under  both 
presses  and  ignited  by  a  slow  match.  The  office  was  com- 
pletely wrecked. 

The  animus  of  the  deed  cannot  be  mistaken;  it  was 
the  blind  malice  of  Grant's  supporters  in  N.  C,  the  vile 
Mongrels,  seeking  to  injure  one  of  their  most  persistent 
exposers.  The  Sentinel  has  never  shown  any  quarter  to 
the  Scalawag  Carpet-bag  Rogues  and  Ring  thieves  who 
infest  the  capital  and  the  State ;  and  in  the  issue  preced- 
ing this  wanton  outrage,  there  had  been  some  hints  of 
new  startling  developments.  Hence  the  result. 

This  is  not  the  first  assault  on  stout  old  Joe  (Turner) . 
In  the  height  of  Holden's  military  despotism,  he  was 
arrested  by  the  would-be  despot,  confined  in  a  cell  with 
a  negro  felon,  drenched  with  water  and  subjected  to  the 
grossest  indignities.  Twice  has  he  been  shot  at,  and  once 

1  The  explosion  took  place  shortly  after  midnight  of  October  10. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  265 

the  assassins  sought  to  wound  him  through  the  murder 
of  his  wife,  who  was  fired  at  through  the  window.  Many 
times  has  he  been  attacked  on  the  street;  and  Radical 
mobs  have  more  than  once  pursued  him  for  his  life; 
which,  however,  he  always  foiled  by  his  cool  courage. 
Failing  in  these  dastardly  schemes  of  murder  they 
sought  to  destroy  his  property,  and  too  happily  suc- 
ceeded. 

I  hope,  however,  the  Democrats  of  N.  C.  will  make 
sure  that  he  is  not  long  in  need  of  a  press.  He  has  done 
more  to  break  up  the  "Rings"  and  run  rascals  out  of  the 
State,  than  any  three  men  in  it.  Such  public  services 
deserve  remuneration  for  all  losses  he  may  sustain  by 
Radical  violence.  As  for  the  base  deed  I  have  mentioned, 
there  is  no  call  for  comment  except  to  say  that  it  is  the 
fruit  of  Radical  teachings  in  the  South,  and  shows  how 
much  Ku  Klux  organizations  are  wanted  about  the  cap- 
ital. 

Genl.  P.  alluded  to  my  letter  to  the  press  in  very  kind 
terms,  giving  his  opinion  that  it  would  do  me  good 
among  my  Southern  friends.  "Oh  you  will  get  to  Con- 
gress someday,"  said  he  in  a  jocular  tone,  and  expressed 
civil  regrets  that  he  could  not  better  my  condition, 
"which,"  said  he,  "  I  would  gladly  do  if  I  could  consis- 
tently with  the  regulations  make  any  distinction  between 
prisoners."  Said  if  I  had  any  serious  trouble  with  the 
under  officers  to  appeal  to  him  and  he  would  see  that  I 
should  be  rightly  treated. 

Altogether  he  makes  me  regard  him  in  a  warm  and 
affectionate  light,  by  his  repeated  assurances  of  friendly 
interest.  He  is  undoubtedly  an  humane,  kind-hearted 
old  man;  although,  from  long  habituation  to  the  con- 
trol of  prisoners  (convicts)  he  has  acquired  a  dictatorial 
pompous  bearing,  which  would  be  apt  to  repulse  a 
stranger.  To  me,  however,  he  has  always  shown  that  a 
generous  and  courteous  soul  lurks  under  the  outward 
crust  of  dignity;  and  I  have  not  the  least  complaint  to 
make  of  his  treatment  of  me. 

Oct.  19th.  Confined  in  cell  by  my  lame  leg.  The 
weather  is  turning  excessively  cold.  School  commenced 
tonight ;  but  I  shall  give  up  my  class,  as  I  find  two  nights 


266  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

in  the  week  a  great  waste  of  my  own  time,  and  I  wish 
to  devote  every  leisure  moment  to  study,  and  studious 
reading. 

Oct.  12th.  Capt.  P.  says  Wm.  Teal,  who  came  with 
me,  is  pardoned.  He  is  in  the  hospital  laid  up  with  white 
swelling  in  the  legs  or  some  similar  disease.  The  Capt. 
wrote  to  Whitley  stating  that  T.  is  likely  to  die,  and 
suggesting  that  he  be  pardoned,  and  the  application  is 
successful.  Such  an  action  is  very  creditable  to  the  Capt. 
and  I'm  sure  T.  ought  to  feel  grateful  for  the  interfer- 
ence in  his  behalf.  Told  Capt.  P.  I  would  be  much  grat- 
ified if  he  would  intercede  for  Brown,  Collins,  Scruggs 
DePriest,  and  the  other  boys.  Wrote  a  long  letter  to 
father  by  today's  mail,  acknowledging  his  surprise  of 
the  9th  inst.  I  adopted  a  gentle  and  affectionate  tone, 
although  I  feel  much  hurt  by  long  neglect.  This  day  is 
the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of  Leesburg,  the  first  en- 
gagement in  which  I  participated.  I  cannot  help  having 
some  wicked  wishes  that  I  had  all  my  enemies  in  so  close 
quarters  as  we  had  the  Yankees  on  that  day,  when  they 
sprang  down  a  bluff  forty  feet  high  and  perished  by 
hundreds  in  the  cold  Potomac. 

Oct.  22nd.  Much  struck  with  a  remark  of  "Junius:" 
"Injuries  may  be  atoned  for  and  forgiven;  but  Insults 
admit  of  no  compensation.  They  degrade  the  mind  in  its 
own  esteem,  and  force  it  to  recover  its  level  by  revenge." 

True  oh  Prophet! — most  true!  But  thou  shouldst 
have  added  that  long  constrained  submission  to  insult 
and  humiliation  actually  weakens  the  mind,  and  lowers 
the  understanding — almost  changes  the  character  of  the 
sufferer.  And  how  dreadful  when  one  has  nothing  but 
his  degradation  to  brood  over,  while  the  future  offers 
him  no  prospect  of  being  able  to  resent  his  injuries,  and 
the  insults  he  has  received!  It  is  such  trials  that  contrib- 
ute to  the  filling  of  our  insane  asylums. 

Oct.  23rd.  Indescribably  nervous,  depressed,  and 
weary  of  my  existence.  Nor  could  it  well  be  otherwise 
with  one  in  my  situation,  standing  all  day  long,  with 
down  cast  eyes,  cold,  speechless,  and  knowing  nothing 
of  the  current  events  of  the  world.  Truly  it  is  but  a  liv- 
ing grave  for  me ! ! 


The  Shotwell  Papers  267 

Oct.  27th.  Worried  by  an  abscess  on  the  jaw,  neu- 
ralgia, and  a  foolish  letter  from  brother  M.  who  has 
been  offered  the  privilege  of  reading  law  with  Gov. 
Vance  but  is  indisposed  to  accept  it.  Strange  that  he 
should  be  so  infatuated  with  Princeton,  although,  hav- 
ing become  somewhat  a  popular  favorite  among  the  la- 
dies, there  is  small  hopes  of  him  until  he  either  marries, 
or  becomes  so  insufferably  vain  as  to  forfeit  the  advan- 
tages he  now  receives  from  youth  and  high  spirits.  The 
offer  to  study  with  Vance  is  one  that  hundreds  of  young 
men  in  N.  C.  would  pay  liberally  for;  and  for  my  part 
I  would  gladly  jump  at  it ;  and  perhaps  obtain  a  magnif- 
icent start  in  life,  through  it.  "But  boys  will  be — boys." 
And  no  doubt  'tis  the  best  policy  to  permit  them  to 
follow  their  own  inclination  in  the  choice  of  professions. 
Although  unfortunately — 

"It  never  is  to  a  baby  told 
What  will  become  of  him  when  old." 

Oct.  28th.  Suffering  intensely  with  my  jaw — jaw- 
gon-it! 

Oct.  29th.  Wrote  to  Aunt  Susie,  enclosing  extracts 
from  Southern  papers  and  begging  her  to  withhold  cen- 
sure of  my  supposed  mis-conduct  until  she  had  further 
particulars.  I  intended  not  to  trouble  myself  with  the 
least  attempt  at  vindication  to  my  Yankee  kindred ;  but 
as  Aunt  S.  has  written  me  so  kindly,  and  seems  so  de- 
sirous to  show  her  affection,  it  is  proper  she  should  see 
that  she  is  not  cherishing  a  really  guilty  man. 

Oct.  30th.  Capt.  P.  fetched  me  a  copy  of  the  Char- 
lotte Observer  sent  in  accordance  with  my  request  to 
Gov.  Vance.  It  contains  my  "card"  on  the  Herald's 
Canard,  as  follows.  The  editorial  comments,  I  give  be- 
low wishing  to  send  Aunt  S.  the  print. 

A  Voice  from  Albany. — A  Vile  Slander  Refuted 
— Mr.  B.  A.  Shotwell  Vindicated  Himself 

The  subjoined  letter  was  received  by  us  last  Sat- 
urday from  Mr.  Randolph  A.  Shotwell,  who  is  now 
confined  in  the  Albany  Penitentiary. 


268  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Albany  Penitentiary. 
October  14th,  1872. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Charlotte  Observer: 

My  attention  has  been  called  to  the  following 
article  copied  from  the  N.  Y '.  Herald,  as  I  am  in- 
formed, by  a  number  of  the  State  papers : 

"A  Ku  Klux  Prisoner  wants  to  stump  for  Grant. 
— It  has  transpired  that  Richard  Shotwell,  one  of 
the  leaders  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan  in  N.  C,  and  now 
confined  in  the  Albany  Penitentiary,  proposed  to 
a  prominent  member  of  Congress  that  if  the  Presi- 
dent would  pardon  him  he  would  cheerfully  take 
the  stump  and  labor  for  the  success  of  the  Republi- 
can candidates  and  denounce  the  Ku  Klux  organi- 
zation. Finding  that  he  was  disposed  to  plead  for 
pardon  it  was  proposed  to  ask  if  he  would  give  evi- 
dence against  the  principal  leaders,  such  as  Ran- 
som, Vance  and  Merrimon.  This  Shotwell  declined 
with  a  defiant  air,  and  said  he  would  die  rather  than 
betray  anybody.  Application  for  the  pardon  was 
therefore  refused.  When  Gerrit  Smith  visited  Shot- 
well  two  months  ago  he  said  he  found  him  defiant 
and  unwilling  to  accept  a  pardon  on  any  condition." 

I  presume  that  I  am  the  person  alluded  to  in  the 
above,  although  the  writer,  having  set  to  fabricate 
a  falsehood,  had  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  give 
even  the  name  correctly.  The  entire  statement  is 
without  foundation.  I  scorn  to  refute  the  imputa- 
tion of  having  offered  to  barter  my  principles  for  a 
pardon ;  but  for  the  sake  of  my  friends  I  will  merely 
say  that  I  have  never  applied  for  pardon,  nor  made 
any  proposals  to  a  prominent  member  of  Congress, 
nor  to  any  one  else.  Having  been  illegally  arrested, 
falsely  accused,  unfairly  tried,  and  unjustly  sen- 
tenced to  the  full  severity  of  an  unconstitutional 
law,  I  have  long  hoped  (and  shall  continue  to  hope) 
that  future  developments  and  the  subsidence  of  bit- 
ter passions  would  lead  to  the  restoration  of  my  lib- 
erty as  an  act  of  justice  rather  than  one  of  execu- 
tive clemency. 

The  last  paragraph  of  the  Herald's  morceau 


The  Shotwell  Papers  269 

wrongs  me  in  a  two  fold  degree  by  imputing  to  me 
a  piece  of  silly  and  theatrical  braggadocio  in  refus- 
ing to  accept  liberty  on  any  condition,  on  the  one 
hand ;  and  again  affording  the  President  a  fair  ex- 
cuse for  declining  to  hear  any  future  application  in 
my  behalf. 

Mr.  Gerrit  Smith  appears  to  be  the  originator  of 
this  calumny.  It  may  not  be  improper  therefore  to 
state  briefly  the  facts  in  the  case.  Mr.  Smith  visited 
the  Penitentiary  on  the  8th  of  July  and  let  it  be 
known  he  came  from  High  Authority.  In  the  inter- 
view with  me  he  was  very  courteous  and  I  answered 
all  his  inquiries  with  courtesy  and  frankness.  After 
acknowledging  that  I  had  been  a  Grand  Chief  of 
the  Klan,  and  was  well  acquainted  with  its  designs, 
I  assured  him  that  it,  and  our  people  generally  had 
been  greatly  misrepresented,  not  only  by  the  Radi- 
cal press,  and  irresponsible  correspondents,  but  also 
by  the  circulation  of  so-called  confessions  and  testi- 
mony invented  by  perjured  vagabonds,  or  exorted 
from  intimidated  witnesses.  I  emphatically  denied 
that  the  Klan  was  a  conspiracy  against  the  Govern- 
ment, or  against  the  negroes,  or  against  any  class 
of  people  on  account  of  their  political  opinions. 
Reverting  to  the  Government  prosecutions,  I 
called  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  there  were  sev- 
eral gray -haired  old  men  of  60  years  and  upwards, 
doomed  to  years  of  toil  in  this  penitentiary,  over  a 
thousand  miles  from  home  for  no  other  offense  than 
having  sought  us  to  preserve  order  in  their  com- 
munities, and  to  shield  their  wives  and  daughters 
from  the  brutal  passions  of  white  and  black  desper- 
adoes, etc. 

Mr.  Smith  seemed  surprised  and  shocked  at  my 
statements  and  strongly  expressed  his  intention  to 
intercede  with  the  President  in  their  behalf.  I 
learned  that  he  fulfilled  his  promise,  and  recom- 
mended three  out  of  four  whom  he  saw,  as  fit  sub- 
jects for  clemency.  But  he  grossly  misrepresents 
me.  Nothing  was  said  of  pardon  during  the  inter- 
view except  a  volunteer  offer  on  his  part  to  write 


270  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

to  a  certain  Republican  Judge  in  my  favor,  for 
which  I  thanked  him,  but  thought  it  hardly  worth 
while  for  him  to  be  at  that  trouble,  although  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  his  own  personal  influence. 
Great  was  my  astonishment,  therefore,  to  hear  of 
his  letter  to  Grant,  and  I  am  forced  to  conclude 
that  it  is  a  part  of  a  scheme  to  exclude  me  from  the 
benefits  of  amnesty.  Hence  this  statement  of  facts. 

Begging  the  indulgence  of  the  public  for  so 
lengthy  an  intrusion  of  my  private  misfortunes,  I 
am  Mr.  Editor, 

Respectfully, 

Randolph  A.  Shotwell. 

Mr.  ShotwelVs  Case.  In  another  column  will  be 
found  a  communication  from  Mr.  Randolph  Shot- 
well  who  is  now  serving  out  his  term  in  Albany 
Penitentiary.  The  letter  was  addressed  to  us  and 
was  intended  for  publication,  Mr.  Shotwell  deem- 
ing proper  to  refute  the  base  and  slanderous  impu- 
tations of  the  Radical  press  of  the  North,  which 
have  been  so  assiduously  circulated  South  as  well 
as  North. 

The  letter  is  a  calm,  dispassionate  and  well  writ- 
ten document.  It  is  a  clear  exposition  of  the  facts  in 
the  case,  and  a  triumphant  refutation  of  the  charges 
against  him  and  will  be  read  with  deep  interest  by 
those  of  his  friends  who  may  see  this. 

In  relation  to  the  publication  of  his  card,  Mr. 
Shotwell  says,  in  a  private  letter,  'I  am  the  more 
sensitive  on  the  subject  treated  of  in  my  card  be- 
cause now  that  my  prospects  for  release  have  been 
withered,  I  feel  an  increased  desire  for  the  respect 
and  sympathy  of  our  people  during  the  protracted 
and  irksome  confinement  before  me.  All  I  have  left 
is  some  little  reputation  for  conduct  as  a  soldier, 
and  for  zeal  and  firmness  as  an  editor — both  in  de- 
fense of  my  State.  Let  me  preserve  this,  and  please 
God  I  shall  greatly  better  it  when  once  more  re- 
stored to  liberty.' 

In  regard  to  his  confinement,  he  says — 

'I  have  been  fortunate  in  having  had  good  health, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  271 

and  although  suffering  from  many  privations  and 
discomforts  am  usually  cheerful  and  patient.  I  un- 
dergo the  same  labor  and  discipline  with  the  felo- 
nious class  here ;  but  I  have  I  think,  the  respect  and 
confidence  of  the  officers — the  superior  officers  at 
least — and  I  have  never  received  a  reprimand  since 
I  came.' 

Whatever  may  have  been  Mr.  Shotwell's  offense 
against  the  law,  the  manner  of  his  conviction  was 
a  graver  offense ;  for  in  his  own  terse  language,  he 
was  illegally  arrested,  falsely  accused,  unfairly 
tried,  and  unjustly  sentenced  to  the  full  severity 
of  an  unconstitutional  law.  The  victim  of  partisan 
malice  and  fury,  his  severe  punishment  excites  the 
sympathies  of  all  who  can  feel  for  men  who  have 
been  tried  before  partial  juries,  and  sentenced  by 
unjust  judges. 

The  present  editor  of  the  Observer  is  Johnstone 
Jones,  of  whom  I  know  nothing.  But  the  foregoing  edi- 
torial was  written,  I  suspect,  by  Gov.  V.  himself;  for 
the  extracts  are  from  my  letter  to  him,  and  the  begin- 
ning of  the  last  paragraph  but  one  is  almost  identically 
the  same  as  one  in  a  private  letter  from  him  to  me. 
All  of  which  gives  weight  to  the  remarks;  although  I 
am  well  aware  that  Gov.  Vance  highly  disapproves  of 
the  whole  K.  K.  movement ;  and  I  daresay  he  considers 
me  very  censurable  for  having  any  connection  with  it; 
although  many  of  the  best  of  his  townsmen  were  more 
deeply  implicated  than  I. 

I  imagine,  too,  that  Mrs.  Dr.  Chapman,  of  Asheville 
tried  a  critical  pen  (for  which  I  am  obliged  to  her)  on 
my  letter  before  it  went  to  the  printer;  since  I  find  a 
redundant  word  omitted,  and  a  missing  "a"  supplied,  and 
the  infinitive  mood  changed  to  the  present  in  one  in- 
stance, all  of  which  I  might  have  noticed  myself,  had  I 
time  for  a  second  reading  ere  I  dispatched  it.  But  the 
Deputy  came  for  it  before  the  ink  was  dry.  Wherefore 
I  think  I  came  off  well. 

And  now,  I  think,  both  my  friends  and  enemies  ought 
to  acquit  me  of  any  intention  to  desert  to  the  Radicals, 
or  to  save  myself  at  the  expense  of  others.  Surely  there 


272  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

can  be  no  mistaking  my  published  declarations  on  the 
subject.  Indeed  it  is  quite  certain  that  I  have  been  far 
too  earnest  and  explicit  for  my  own  future  good;  for 
my  enemies  will  be  sure  to  shut  the  door  of  pardon  ( Oh 
how  I  hate  that  word!)  against  me.  But  I  could  not  do 
less.  Reputation  is  of  more  value  to  me  than  personal 
liberty.  Nor  do  I  think  I  shall  ever  stoop  to  solicit  clem- 
ency of  my  vile  Persecutors!  although  when  I  reflect 
that  if  kept  here  my  full  term  I  shall  have  become  for- 
gotten by  my  acquaintance,  and  be  powerless  to  obtain 
redress  for  past  wrongs,  I  feel  like  undergoing  almost 
any  additional  humiliation,  provided  it  shall  loosen  my 
arms  to  resent  all  the  outrages  done  in  sending  me  here, 
as  well  as  the  humiliation  in  begging  out. 

But  I  cannot  forget  that  in  asking  clemency  I  place 
mvself  in  the  attitude  of  a  confessed  criminal,  which  I 
am  not,  and  never  shall  be.  The  very  term  pardon  im- 
plies guilt ;  hence,  as  I  remarked  before,  I  hate  it,  when 
used  in  connection  with  my  name.  I  want  no  pardon,  but 
only  simple  justice,  I  have  been  wronged  as  few  men 
ever  are  or  were. 

I  have  been  wronged  by  false  accusation  and  slander. 

I  have  been  robbed  of  time  and  liberty  by  false  im- 
prisonment. 

I  have  been  cruelly  wounded,  by  false  assumptions  on 
the  part  of  many  friends. 

I  have  been  foully  damaged  by  the  false  verdict  of  a 
packed  jury. 

I  have  been  shamefully  insulted  by  the  false  declama- 
tions of  a  political  judge. 

I  have  undergone  every  sort  of  ill  treatment  and  hu- 
miliation at  the  hands  of  the  cowardly  and  false  hearted 
officers  of  government: — and  now  to  cap  the  climax  of 
outrage,  I  must  falsely  forswear  myself  and  seal  my 
ruin  by  a  false  confession  of  feigned  crimes ! 

Not  much  shall  I  be  found  in  such  an  hypocritical, 
false  piece  of  business.  Nay,  let  the  command  of  my 
tongue  be  denied  me,  if  ever  my  heart  prompt  so  false 
an  utterance! 


The  Shotwell  Papers  273 

"Smile  on,  my  lords! 
I  scorn  to  count  what  feelings,  withered  hopes 
Strong  provocations,  bitter,  burning  wrongs 
I  have  within  my  heart's  hot  cells  shut  up." 

"I've  had  wrongs 
To  stir  a  fever  in  the  blood  of  age, 
Or  make  the  infant's  sinews  strong  as  steel" 
"But  here  I  stand  and  scoff  you;  here  I  fling 
Hatred  and  full  defiance  in  your  face!" 
Oct.  31.     Wretched  torture  from  my  swollen  face, 
be-k.ks  I  can't  eat.  Tried  to  get  a  mouthful  of  our  so- 
called  soup  into  "the  proper  channel"  for  a  visit  to  the 
interior;  but  the  soup  was  too  weak  to  crawl  over  my 
teeth,  and  as  my  puffy  lips  forbid  the  entrance  of  a  spoon 
"the  matter  was  dropt."  Tomorrow  the  dock-ter  must 
punch  it  with  his  "gough"  (lance)  or  I  cant  survive. 

Nov.  1st.  Du  Chaillu  the  famous  traveler  mentions 
that  among  the  African  tribes  he  found  many  in  whose 
dialect  there  was  no  word  to  describe  an  honest  man. 
They  didn't  know  the  meaning  of  honesty.  What  a  co- 
incidence that  we  should  have  a  tribe  ( called  office  hold- 
ers) which  is  in  a  precisely  similar  state  of  ignorance  of 
honor  and  honesty?  But  then  it  must  be  admitted  that 
the  office  holders  at  present  have  many  traits  in  common 
with  the  negroes,  by  whose  votes  most  of  them  were 
elected. 

Apropos  of  Honor,  I  have  read  that  the  mythological 
Temple  of  Honor  had  no  entrance  of  its  own,  nor  could 
it  be  entered  except  through  the  temple  of  Virtue  which 
conveys  a  beautiful  moral,  i.  e.,  that  man  must  practice 
virtue  before  he  can  reach  Honor.  Alas!  the  aspirant 
to  Honorable  Fame  does  not  nowadays  commonly  enter 
by  the  sombre  portals  of  virtue. 

Nov.  3rd.  Was  much  disappointed  in  getting  no  let- 
ter from  the  South.  But  after  breakfast  Genl.  Pilsbury 
came  to  my  cell,  and  handed  me  the  following  from 
Hon.  Gerrit  Smith. 

Peterborough  N.  Y.  Oct.  31st  '72. 

Dear  Sir: — A  friend  has  sent  me  a  newspaper 
containing  your  letter  of  the  14th  inst.  I  am  very 
sorry  I  misapprehended  you.  I  judged  you  to  be  a 


274  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

man  of  proud,  self-gratifying,  and  defiant  spirit. 
I  understood  you  to  say  that  you  had  no  confes- 
sions to  make  and  expected  no  pardon.  You  justi- 
fied all  you  had  done  and  laid  the  blame  on  others. 
How  then  could  I  ask  the  President  to  pardon 
you! 

You  are  young — only  28  you  told  me — you  have 
talents  and  education;  and  I  wish  you  were  out  of 
prison,  and  doing  good  in  the  world.  But  I  see  not 
that  your  term  of  punishment  can  be  shortened  if 
you  feel  and  express  no  regrets;  for  being,  as  you 
admit  you  were,  the  Ku  Klux  Chief  in  your  part 
of  the  country. 

I  shall  be  happy  to  help  you  but  you  must  first 
help  yourself.  Let  me  assure  you  that  the  Presi- 
dent is  a  kind  man,  and  that  you  have  much  to 
hope  for  from  his  kindness  if  you  will  but  allow 
him  scope  for  its  exercise.  The  President  knew 
nothing  of  my  visit  to  the  Penitentiary.  I  was 
moved,  however,  from  an  influential  quarter  to  un- 
dertake it. 

Your  friend 

Gerrit  Smith. 

Mr.  Smith's  handwriting  is  crabbed  and  hieroglyph- 
ical  beyond  anything  I  ever  saw,  unless  I  except  that  of 
Gov.  D.  L.  Swain,  who  once  wrote  me  several  letters 
which  I  was  obliged  to  answer  at  a  venture,  not  know* 
ing  much  of  their  contents.  It  is  not  surprising  to  read 
of  Mr.  S's  letter  to  the  President,  "that  the  whole  force 
of  experts  in  the  Attorney  General's  office  was  neces- 
sary to  decypher  it  for  the  perusal  of  the  President." 
Such  a  joke  as  that  ought  to  send  even  an  octogenarian 
to  writing  school.  However,  I  translated  my  letter ;  and, 
in  the  afternoon,  Genl.  Pilsbury  came  to  take  me  out  to 
his  office  to  answer  it.  Without  having  an  opportunity  to 
arrange  my  ideas  or  cull  expressions,  I  wrote  as  fol- 
lows; and,  as  I  now  think  rather  too  obsequiously;  al- 
though Genl.  P.  told  me  it  was  just  right — couldn't  be 
better"  etc. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  275 

Albany  Penitentiary,  Nov.  3d.  1872.   Hon  Gerrit 
Smith 

Dear  Sir. 

Through  the  courtesy  of  Genl.  Pilsbury  I  am 
permitted  to  acknowledge  your  favor  of  the  1st 
inst.  in  which  you  state  the  impressions  made  upon 
you  by  my  language  and  demeanor  at  the  time  of 
your  visit  and  which  occasioned  your  representa- 
tions to  the  President.  I  am  glad  to  be  reassured  in 
the  opinion  I  had  formed  of  your  kindness  and  be- 
nevolence; an  opinion  that  led  me  to  note  in  my 
journal  that  I  had  met  the  great  abolitionist  Gerrib 
Smith,  and  felt  the  antipathy  of  a  life  time  melted 
almost  away  in  the  course  of  a  short  interview.  But 
it  is  apparent  that  I  have  not  made  myself  under- 
stood. When  I  told  you  that  I  had  no  confessions 
to  make  and  did  not  expect  a  pardon,  I  simply  ex- 
pressed a  sincere  conviction.  I  have  no  confessions 
to  make  because  I  am  conscious  of  no  crime  of  my 
own  doing,  and  I  know  of  no  criminality  on  the 
part  of  others.  I  was  a  chief  of  the  Klan,  but  the 
Klan  as  I  understood  it,  was  not  a  treasonable 
organization,  and  I  did  not,  and  do  not  approve  of 
the  outrages  said  to  have  been  committed  by  it, 
and  I  utterly  refuse  to  be  criminated  by  them.  At 
my  trial  it  was  elicited  from  the  witnesses — govern- 
ment witnesses  against  me — that  I  had  repeatedly 
threatened  to  expose  any  raiders  of  whom  I  could 
obtain  knowledge. 

It  is  true  that  I  might  give  the  names  of  a  large 
number  of  persons  who  have  been  members  of  the 
order,  and  thus  bring  them  into  trouble,  although 
they  may  not  have  been  guilty  of  the  least  infrac- 
tion of  law.  But  I  should  be  slow  to  purchase  free- 
dom at  the  price  of  treachery,  and  dishonor  of  this 
sort.  From  which  you  will  see  that  I  cannot  con- 
scientiously criminate  myself  or  others;  hence  I 
have  little  hope  of  pardon.  Yet  it  would  be  a  con- 
solation to  know  that  I  had  the  friendly  influence  of 
one  whose  claims  upon  the  President  and  the  He- 
publican  party  are  so  great  as  those  of  Mr.  Smith, 


276  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  in  asking  this  friendly  influence  I  can  assure 
him  that  if  pardoned  I  shall  return  home  and  en- 
deavor to  aid  all  lawful  authority  in  the  preserva- 
tion of  order,  morality  and  the  Rights  and  Privi- 
leges of  all  classes  of  citizens  irrespective  of  color 
or  Party. 

With  respectful  regards,  I  am,  Sir,  Your  obedt. 
Sevt.  R.  A.  S. 

After  directing  this  letter,  Genl.  P.  invited  me  into 
his  drawing  room,  and  named  me  to  his  wife ;  with  whom, 
however,  I  could  have  no  conversation  as  she  is  quite 
deaf.  Mrs.  P.  then  went  out,  and  got  for  me  a  bundle 
of  cake  to  take  to  my  cell,  and  the  General  finding  I 
was  not  well  provided  with  underclothing  said  he  should 
have  me  supplied.  No  one  will  ever  know  how  much  mor- 
tified I  am  on  these  occasions,  when  my  poverty  and 
present  ignominious  situation,  are  so  forcibly  brought 
to  mind  by  the  very  kindness  of  these  friends  I  have 
found  or  made  in  a  strange  land.  But  reason  tells  me 
'twould  be  silly  not  to  do  the  best  I  can  to  gain  regard 
of  those  who  are  my  custodians  in  law  if  not  by  right; 
so  I  endeavor  to  seem  pleased  and  grateful. 

Nov.  6th.  All  is  over!  The  Great  Farce,  {The  Pres- 
idential Election)  closed  yesterday,  as  had  been  fore- 
seen for  the  past  month,  with  a  complete  triumph  for 
the  Bully  Butcher,  and  National  Gift  Taker.  Grant 
walked  the  track.  Telegraphic  reports  from  all  quarters 
leave  it  doubtful  whether  Greeley  will  get  a  single  State. 
Even  New  York — the  Democratic  Old  Guard — surren- 
ders to  the  tune  of  3500  majority  for  the  "Coming 
Man."  Twenty  five  other  states  are  in  the  same  column 
— marching  the  Despot  gaily  to  his  throne !  Selah !  It  is 
absolutely  amazing,  the  apathy,  the  blindness,  the  in- 
fatuation of  the  people !  Is  there  no  longer  any  patriot- 
ism, any  conservatism  in  the  land?  What  do  we  see  this 
day?  A  nation  yielding  its  elective  franchise  to  elect  a 
worse  than  Napoleonic  despot!  I  say  the  nation  yields 
its  franchises  because  no  one  believes  that  Grant  is  the 
choice  of  the  people,  that  he  is  worthy  of  the  High  Au- 
thority which  is  now  his  for  another  term  and  doubtless 
for  life.  But  corruption,  and  greed,  and  avarice,  and 


The  Shotwell  Papers  277 

fear,  and  Prejudice,  and  Misrepresentation,  every  ma- 
lignant passion,  every  dishonorable  and  illegal  means 
have  been  made  to  bring  about  the  stupendous  result. 
And  now  what  next? 

Historians  tell  us  that  every  Republic  that  has  fallen, 
to  shake  the  faith  of  man  in  his  own  capacity  for  gov- 
ernment, has  been,  preceding  its  final  fall,  the  scene  of 
just  such  transactions  as  these;  sectional  prejudices, 
the  majority  trampling  on  the  minority,  the  courts  cor- 
rupted and  used  for  political  ends,  open  corruption  in 
office,  bribery  of  voters,  use  of  the  military  to  intimidate 
the  opposition,  great  monopolies  supporting  the  most 
promising  candidates,  and  finally  much  unanimity  in 
favor  of  some  popular  leader,  who  quietly  took  the 
crown  and  Royal  Robes  when  a  suitable  opportunity  oc- 
curred. This  is  the  political  panorama  now  unfolding, 
slowly  but  surely,  in  our  own  country.  The  end  we  may 
almost  see.  And  then  bloodshed,  insurrections,  turbu- 
lence, and  anarchy!  Now,  I  do  not  predict  that  all  this 
is  to  occur  in  a  year  or  two ;  it  may  be  postponed  for  a 
score  of  years.  But  one  thing  is  certain  it  will  not  be 
half  so  long,  nor  a  third  of  it,  if  the  Government  con- 
tinues to  usurp  power,  and  hold  it,  as  it  has  done  during 
the  last  decade. 

Nov.  7th.  Genl.  P.  came  down  to  my  cell  to  present 
me  with  a  couple  of  suits  of  underclothing  of  the  best 
quality.  They  are  precisely  similar  he  said,  to  those  he 
wore  himself,  and  were  excellently  fitted  for  me,  being 
large,  warm,  and  strong.  Of  course  I  thanked  him;  and 
was  glad  to  get  the  articles,  as  the  weather  is  now  quite 
cool  day  and  night.  It  is  true  I  felt  somewhat  mortified 
at  the  necessity  which  obliged  me  to  accept  such  a  pres- 
ent, which  possibly  came  out  of  his  own  pocket  (for  al- 
though the  institution  occasionally  furnishes  under- 
clothing to  destitute  prisoners,  the  quality  is  decidedly 
inferior)  and  which  at  all  events  was  not  one  I  ought  to 
have  needed.  But  I  have  learned  to  pocket  my  pride,  and 
be  thankful  for  small  favors,  and  undoubtedly  it  was 
both  unusual,  and  an  high  mark  of  favor  for  Genl.  P. 
to  suggest  and  procure  them  for  me.  Consequently  I  feel 


278  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

gratified,  grateful  that  I  have  found,  like  Joseph,  a 
friend  in  the  Keeper  of  my  prison. 

Nov.  9th.  I  think  I  have  said  enough  about  the  elec- 
tion; but  it  is  as  well  to  state  officially  that  Grant  has 
carried  every  Northern  State,  and  all  the  Southern 
States,  but  half  a  dozen,  not  worth  mentioning.1  Ave 
Caesar!  Now  let  him  but  play  his  cards  prudently,  and 
the  largest  empire  on  the  Globe  will  be  his.  No!  No! 
Let  me  not  give  up  faith  in  the  patriotism,  and  integrity 
of  my  countrymen !  That  Grant  is  ambitious  to  play  the 
King  I  have  no  doubt:  that  he  is  already  virtually  a 
tyrant  I  need  not  say,  because  my  own  experience  is 
plain  evidence  of  the  fact,  but  that  he  can  succeed  in 
overthrowing  Republican  Institutions  is  hardly  prob- 
able ;  although,  as  I  have  said,  if  demoralization,  degen- 
eracy, and  corruption  continue  to  gain  in  the  country 
as  they  have  done  during  the  past  decade,  every  obstacle 
to  a  throne  must  soon  fall. 

Nov.  10th.  Kind  note  from  Jennie  dearest  of  sisters, 
telling  me  of  the  arrest  of  W.  T.  McE.  He  has  been 
stationed  at  Joe  Carson's  14  miles  from  Greenville.  He 
was  bound  over  to  Jany.  Term  of  U.  S.  Circuit  Court 
at  Statesville.  It  seems  Court  met  a  few  days  ago,  and 
"continued"  all  the  K.  K.  Kases  until  next  term.  This 
is  an  outrage!  The  indicted  persons  to  the  number  of 
600  or  1000,  with  all  their  witnesses,  lawyers,  etc.,  have 
been  obliged  to  attend  court  after  court,  many  of  them 
going  over  200  miles  at  great  expense  and  loss  of  time ; 
and  nearly  all  being  poor  men,  such  demands  must  im- 
poverish them  and  their  families  before  they  obtain  a 
trial — farcical  as  such  trials  are  known  to  be!  Nothing 
worse  than  this  can  be  charged  against  the  corrupted 
tribunals  of  Justice  (so-called)  of  the  most  tyrannical 
Kingdoms  of  the  Old  World ;  and  it  is  directly  in  viola- 
tion of  the  Constitution  which  declares  that  every  man 
is  entitled  to  a  speedy  and  fair  trial  by  an  honest  jury  of 
his  countrymen. 

The  weather  has  grown  very  cold,  making  me  shud- 
der at  thought  of  spending  another  winter  here.  Indeed 
my  situation  has  become  almost  unendurable,   and  I 

1  Grant  carried  Georgia,  Kentucky,  Maryland,   Missouri,   Tennessee,   and  Texas. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  279 

daily  "dont  know  what  to  do  with  myself."  Misere, 
misere,  me! 

M.  writes  cross  and  complaining  notes.  It  is  a  shame 
to  be  misunderstood,  neglected  and  misjudged  by  one 
who  should  be  anxious  to  serve  me :  but  Lord ! — the  self- 
ishness and  stupidity  of  the  present  annum  mundi! 

Nov.  17th.  M.  writes,  "The  other  day,  Genl.  Karge, 
professor  of  modern  languages  (in  Princeton  College) 
came  to  me,  and  told  me  to  give  you  his  respects  and  to 
assure  you  of  his  high  appreciation  of  your  noble  bear- 
ing towards  those  Government  officers.  He  had  seen 
your  letters  to  the  papers.  He  was  a  General  in  the  Fed- 
eral army  during  the  war;  but  says,  although  he  had 
fought  us,  he  knows  something  of  our  wrongs  since  the 
surrender.  He  says  he  thinks  he  will  go  to  see  you  in 
vacation  and  bids  me  tell  you  he  would  be  glad  to  wel- 
come you  to  his  house  when  you  get  out"  etc.,  etc.  It  is 
cheering  to  know  that  my  case  is  gaining  some  notoriety, 
not  for  notoriety's  sake  but  that  my  reputation  may  be 
cleared. 

Nov.  18th.  Wrote  to  father,  enclosing  my  letter  to 
M.  H.  Justice  for  greater  security. 

Nov.  19th.  Went  up  to  the  school  room  to  get  the 
benefit  of  the  light,  and  a  desk  on  which  to  practice 
Phonography.  Last  night,  however,  there  were  no  school 
exercises,  but,  instead,  a  magic  lantern  exhibition  by 
Chaplain  Reynolds,  given  as  a  treat  to  the  scholars  for 
good  conduct.  It  was,  I  judge,  casting  pearls  before 
swine;  as  most  of  the  scenes  were  of  statuary,  flowers 
and  views  of  ancient  castles  etc.,  in  which  these  poor  fel- 
lows could  take  very  little  interest.  Something  highly 
colored,  striking,  tragic  or  ludicrous,  would  have  been 
more  to  their  liking. 

For  my  part  I  could  have  enjoyed  the  exhibition  if 
I  had  not  been  half  frozen  all  evening.  I  got  very  little 
sleep  all  night  after  being  so  thoroughly  chilled. 

Mr.  Reynolds  fetched  me  Motley's  "Rise  of  the 
Dutch  Republic"  from  his  private  library  in  the  city, 
which  is  quite  kind  of  him.  The  book  is  equal  to  fiction 
in  incident  and  is  written  in  good,  and  pleasant  style.  I 
was  much  amused  at  the  character  of  Count  Hoog- 


280  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

straaten,  who  vehemently  denounces  one  of  his  false 
friends  as  a  man  who  could  "lie  twenty  four  feet  down 
his  throat."  Some  of  my  enemies  beat  that. 

Nov.  20th.  For  some  weeks  past  I  have  been  study- 
ing law,  etc.,  in  the  workshops  at  such  odd  moments  as 
I  could  snatch,  by  keeping  ahead  of  the  supply  of  shoes. 
In  this  manner  I  frequently  got  two  hours  a  day  for 
study.  But  our  overseer  (White)  who  has  ever  mani- 
fested a  disposition  to  pick  at  me,  although  he  has  had 
few  openings  for  censure  or  abuse  because  I  obey  the 
rules  like  clockwork,  happened  to  see  me  looking  on 
my  book,  which  I  had  partially  under  the  bench.  Such 
an  opportunity  could  not  be  lost  on  so  willing  a  mind; 
and  I  was  very  rudely  commanded  to  "Put  up  that  book 
and  attend  to  your  own  business."  Of  course  I  "never  a 
word  said  once."  But  my  views  on  the  constitutionality 
of  the  Ku  Klux  act  were  prodigious.  This  interruption 
of  my  shop  studies  is  a  serious  loss  to  me,  as  we  go  out 
so  early  and  come  in  so  late  I  have  no  time  for  study  or 
reading;  and  the  occasional  scraps  of  learning  I  could 
pick  up  in  the  shops,  were  useful  in  diverting  my  mind 
during  the  long  hours  while  at  work. 

But  the  overseer  is  not  a  lover  of  learning ;  and  I  dare 
say  in  this  instance  hates  the  student. 

Nov.  22nd.  First  snow  of  the  season,  and  so  cloudy 
that  we  were  released  from  the  Shops  an  hour  earlier 
than  usual.  I  was  so  delighted  I  could  have  sung  the 
Yankee  Te  deum  (doodle)  had  there  not  been  a  tend- 
ency among  the  authorities  to  repress  anything  like 
rowdyism. 

Nov.  24th.  Note  from  Miss  M.  M.  F.  who  says  she 
has  written  to  me  very  often  and  is  still  "one  of  the  best 
friends  you  have  on  earth.  May  God  bless  you!" 

This  is  very  kind,  and  I  am  sure  my  amiable  friend 
ought  not  to  think  me  ungrateful  although  I  presume 
she  does.  It  is  strange  what  a  fatality  seems  to  pursue  me 
with  respect  to  my  correspondence;  my  own  letters  are 
commonly  misjudged,  and  those  of  my  friends  seldom 
reach  me. 

Nov.  25th.     An  envelope  from  father  contains  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  281 

following  extracts  from  N.  C.  papers  to  which  he  only 
adds  the  ejaculation — "God  bless  my  son!" 

From  the  Greensboro  Patriot. 

"We  publish  on  the  outside  of  the  Patriot  this 
week,  the  manly  letter  of  Capt.  Shotwell,  who  is 
now  confined  at  Albany  N.  Y.  on  the  charge  of 
Ku  Kluxing!  What  a  splendid  contrast  the  con- 
duct of  this  brave  man  makes  to  the  cowardly 
cringeing  of  those  who  were  terrified  into  sacrificing 
their  manhood  and  their  principles  to  avoid  the 
wrath  of  an  angry  administration.  Shotwell  in  his 
prison  is  an  hero  deserving  of  admiration  before 
whom  these  cringeing  cowards  should  slink  in 
shame." 

The  Southern  Home— Edited  by  Genl.  D.  H.  Hill, 
at  Charlotte  says: 

Capt.  Shotwell — This  fearless  youth  publishes  a 
card  in  the  Charlotte  Observer  indignantly  denying 
that  he  had  been  trying  to  make  terms  with  the 
enemy.  We  believe  he  would  rot  in  the  Penitentiary 
before  he  would  do  an  unmanly  or  a  cowardly  thing. 
The  whole  story  was  a  low  Radical  trick.  The  im- 
pression sought  to  be  made  was  that  Shotwell  could 
convict  Vance  and  certain  Conservative  leaders, 
but  was  too  honorable  to  do  it.  The  men  who  got 
up  the  lie,  knew  that  these  leaders  were  no  more 
connected  with  the  Ku  Klux  organization  than 
Genl.  Grant,  or  Horace  Greeley." 

I  am  rejoiced  to  learn  that  there  are  two  newspapers 
at  least  in  North  Carolina  that  dare  express  their  sym- 
pathy for  men,  who  have  been  wronged  and  injured  as 
I  have  been.  These  editors  seem  to  have  some  back-bone ; 
their  pens  do  not  shrink  from  telling  what  their  con- 
science dictates.  But  such  courage  is  very  rare  in  the 
State  I  imagine :  for,  although  in  the  heat  of  a  political 
campaign,  none  of  the  country  papers  utter  one  word 
(that  I  can  hear  of)  in  denunciation  of  the  Radical  out- 
rages, military  and  mock-civil,  hourly  transpiring 
around  them. 

To  show  how  the  times  are  I  quote  from  a  letter,  re- 


282  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ceived  by  Brown  from  a  respectable  citizen  of  York- 
ville,  S.  C.  The  writer  is  70  years  of  age,  and  formerly 
was  a  clergyman  I  believe.  He  says : 

And  has  it  come  to  this  at  last  that  our  boasted 
model  Republic  no  longer  affords  protection  to  her 
best  citizens,  but  has  become  an  engine  of  persecu- 
tion to  her  children  (through  her  courts,  too)  as 
furiously  insane  as  were  ever  the  Inquisitions  of 
Portugal  or  Spain!  As  yet  (thank  God!)  I  have 
my  personal  liberty,  but  I  feel  that  I  have  no  coun- 
try, no  protector,  of  my  purse,  property,  or  reputa- 
tion, when  I  hear  every  day  the  military  bugle, 
drum,  and  clank  of  arms,  and  see  every  hour  be- 
fore my  eyes  the  attired  soldiers,  cavalry,  infantry, 
and  artillery  crowding  our  streets,  and  hunting 
down  my  neighbors  and  the  best  citizens  we  have; 
and  find  our  jails  packed  with  men  charged  with 
offenses  of  grave  sort  which  they  did  not  commit, 
and  tried  by  juries  packed  for  the  purpose  of  a  sure 
conviction  and  witnesses  paid  in  money  or  other- 
wise to  swear  to  suit  the  tastes  of  the  prosecutors; 
and  a  prejudiced  judge  to  impose  a  fine  and  pass 
sentence  which  is  equivalent  to  confiscation  of  an 
whole  estate  and  confinement  for  the  remainder  of 
the  term  of  life!  When  I  see  all  this,  and  worse, 
daily  occurring  I  am  appalled  at  the  sad  and  sicken- 
ing spectacle !  For  we  all  well  know  that  this  is  done, 
not  for  the  public  good  but  for  the  support  of  a 
political  party.  I  venture  to  affirm  that  there  has 
not  been,  nor  is  now,  a  single  man  from  this  state 
sent  to  Albany  prison  who  ever  was  or  is  now,  a 
member  of  any  organization,  or  single  handed,  who 
has  opposed  the  Federal  laws;  and  it  is  only  by  a 
forced  and  far  fetched  construction  that  even  the 
most  violent  act  of  Ku  Kluxism  can  be  so  regarded 
by  any  Court,  etc.,  etc.  I  know  of  no  man  to  whom 
I  can  compare  Judge  Bond  except  it  be  Jeffreys 
of  England. 

IN  THE  HOSPITAJL 

Nov,  27th,  1872.     Capt.  P.  came  out  to  the  shops, 
and  told  me  the  General  wished  to  have  a  little  talk 


The  Shotwell  Papers  283 

with  me,  in  the  Office.  The  latter  informed  me  that  he 
had  thought  of  placing  me  in  charge  of  the  Hospital, 
to  fill  the  vacancy  occasioned  by  the  release  of  Maj. 
L.  L.  Hodge,  one  of  Grant's  defaulting  paymasters, 
who  was  sent  here  for  10  years,  but  is  now  at  liberty  in 
less  than  12  months.  The  Genl.  then  asked  me  if  I  would 
give  him  a  promise  to  execute  the  rules  and  see  that 
everything  was  rightly  attended  to  precisely  as  if  I  were 
a  regular  officer.  I  replied  that  if  he  chose  to  give  me 
so  easy  a  berth  I  should  take  care  to  fill  his  expectations 
of  me,  so  far  as  I  should  be  capable. 

Accordingly  I  am  now  duly  installed ;  Librarian  and 
Hospital  Steward.  The  advantages  of  the  position  for 
one  of  my  turn  of  mind  can  hardly  be  estimated.  The 
Hospital  is  a  large  room,  on  the  second  floor,  having 
five  windows,  from  which  there  is  quite  a  pleasant  pros- 
pect, taking  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  and  the  Catskills 
in  the  blue  distance.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  room  is 
a  large  book  case,  containing  a  thousand  volumes,  or 
more ;  long  table ;  high  desk ;  clock ;  chest  for  clothes,  etc. 
This  end  is  my  "quarter  deck,"  being  the  place  where  I 
do  principally  abide. 

Along  the  right  wall  are  the  patients'  cots,  17  in  num- 
ber, each  of  which  has  chair,  spoon  and  cup,  for  its  occu- 
pant. There  are  two  stoves  and  gas  jets  for  light  and 
heat.  In  the  lower  end  are  the  sinks,  pans,  etc.,  for  wash- 
ing, together  with  two  closets  for  luggage  and  the  use 
of  the  nurses.  On  the  walls  are  several  fine  lithographs 
in  walnut  frames.  The  library  comprises  many  standard 
works  of  History,  Philosophy,  Poesy,  and  the  Sciences ; 
but  is  largely  supplied  also  with  "war  literature"  and 
trash. 

The  care  of  both  Library  and  Hospital  devolves  on 
the  Steward,  who  has,  however,  an  assistant  to  attend 
to  the  minor  matters,  such  as  giving  out  rations,  clean- 
ing up  the  floors,  etc. 

It  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  difference  between  my 
old  life  and  this;  but  I  can  already  realize  the  advan- 
tages in  many  important  particulars;  viz,  clean  beds, 
clean  clothes,  use  of  books,  writing  material,  etc.,  better 
food,  freedom  to  converse,  walk  about,  and  hold  my 


284  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

head  up — last  but  not  least.  But  why  say  more  than  that 
I  get  rid  of  the  shop,  with  all  its  dirt,  drudgery,  down 
cast  eyes,  and  degrading  associations!  That  of  itself  is 
almost  like  being  set  at  liberty,  so  great  is  the  relief. 

To  Genl.  Pilsbury,  who  kindly  rescues  me  from  the 
many  hardships  and  sufferings  that  I  have  faintly  al- 
luded to  in  the  foregoing  pages,  I  am  very  much  in- 
debted, and,  of  course,  shall  endeavor  to  merit  his  con- 
fidence. 

Nov,  28th,  "Thanksgiving  day!"  (so-called)  This  is 
observed  as  an  holiday  in  the  Institution  and  is  cele- 
brated like  "4th  July,"  by  exercises  in  the  chapel. 

Genl.  P.  came  up  in  the  morning,  and  giving  me  a 
small  black  book,  desired  me  to  draw  up  a  notice  of  the 
performances  for  one  of  the  city  papers,  whose  editor  had 
requested  it.  I  complied  as  well  as  I  could  after  being  so 
long  out  of  practice  in  matters  of  that  sort.  Services 
were  opened  with  the  reading  of  the  Proclamation  after 
which  an  amateur  quartette  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  dis- 
coursed patriotic  airs  and  a  half  dozen  amateur  orators 
spouted  eloquence,  "and  sich-like"  for  the  edification  of 
the  Inmates. 

When  all  was  over  the  men  were  marched  to  their 
cells,  where  they  found  a  big  dinner  consisting  of  roast 
beef,  ham,  cabbage,  potatoes,  onions,  cheese,  crackers, 
and  apples.  This  dinner  is  the  chief  feature  of  the  day 
for  the  prisoners  and  is  looked  forward  to  for  months. 
Fortunately  I  need  no  longer  await  the  "Annual  Din- 
ner" with  so  much  impatience;  as  my  fare  is  decidedly 
improved  in  quantity  and  somewhat  in  quality. 

As  for  my  duties  I  find  they  are  by  no  means  onerous ; 
being  merely  to  issue  medicine,  preserve  order,  see  that 
the  patients  and  convalescents  are  properly  provided, 
and  look  after  the  Library.  I  have,  therefore,  more  than 
half  the  day  to  myself,  and  may  read,  write,  or  amuse 
myself  as  best  I  can. 

At  present  we  have  ten  men  in  hospital  but  several  of 
them  are  old  chronic  cases,  useless  in  the  shops ;  and  sent 
up  here  to  get  rid  of  them  I  suppose.  One  is  Teal,  who 
was  sentenced  when  I  was,  and  who  is  fairly  shrivelling 
with  some  disease  unknown  to  me  which  has  eaten  up 


The  Shotwell  Papers  285 

all  the  flesh  and  muscle  of  his  legs,  and  arms,  leaving  his 
skin  flapping  around  his  bones,  like  a  wet  sail  against  a 
mast.  His  days  are  not  many  on  this,  or  any  other  land, 
I  apprehend.  Another  patient  Lynch  will  die  of  con- 
sumption in  a  few  days.  He  called  me  to  him,  and  ex- 
pressed pleasure  that  I  had  got  the  stewardship,  al- 
though I  know  not  how  he  gained  any  knowledge  of  me 
previously,  and  if  he  is  aware  of  his  own  condition  I 
should  think  such  matters  would  have  very  little  inter- 
est for  him.  Tonight  I  shall  sit  up  with  him  a  part  of 
the  night;  as  most  of  the  other  men  are  weary  with 
watching.  It  is  a  new  business  for  me  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  sick  people,  but  I  intend  to  make  myself 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  it.  Who  knows  but  I  may 
turn  out  to  be  a  "doctor"  after  all?  At  all  events  I  shall 
learn  something  about  drugs. 

Nov.  30th.  This  evening  Teal's  wife  came  to  carry 
him  home  (his  pardon  has  been  here  for  several  weeks) . 
Wonderful  strength  of  women's  love!  This  poor  wife, 
who  I  venture  to  say  was  never  20  miles  from  home  in 
her  life,  and  knew  no  more  about  traveling  than  flying, 
actually  contrived  to  collect  means  to  bear  her  expenses, 
and  (having  obtained  an  order  for  transportation  for  her 
husband)  inquiring  her  way  from  city  to  city  finally 
reached  Albany,  and  came  here  today,  in  an  old  "sun- 
bonnet,"  half  frozen,  timid,  and  looking  like  a  scare- 
crow; but  cheerful  and  full  of  affection  for  her  ghost 
of  a  man,  whom  she  has  undertaken  to  carry  home  with 
her.  What  heroine  of  romance  could  do  more? 

Teal  is  a  miserable  wreck;  his  legs  and  arms  are 
wasted  away  until  they  are  not  much  larger  than  pipe 
stems ;  and  he  must  be  lifted  about  like  an  infant.  If  he 
lives  to  get  home  (which  I  very  much  doubt)  it  will  be 
a  miracle,  the  miraculous  influence  of  a  woman's  loving 
care.  True  this  little  "ministering  angel"  uses  snuff,  and 
leaned  over  the  spittoon  to  discharge  a  gill  of  tobacco 
juice  in  the  corner  of  our  white  floored  hospital!  But 
these  little  accidents  come  from  lack  of  knowledge;  the 
heart  is  better  tutored;  and  most  bravely  has  hers  sus- 
tained her.  We  fixed  Teal  as  comfortably  as  possible, 
the  Dept.  giving  him  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  a  blanket, 


286  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  a  bottle  of  liquor ;  to  which  I  added  a  comforter  for 
the  neck,  and  some  other  matters,  together  with  a  letter, 
recommending  him  to  the  "aid  and  assistance"  of  all 
friends,  and  the  public  generally  on  the  route  homeward. 

Sunday  Dec.  1st.  Shortly  after  I  had  retired  (if  you 
can  be  said  to  retire  when  you  turn  in  to  bed  in  a  room 
where  a  dozen  others  are  spectators)  last  night  I  was 
called  up  to  superintend  the  "laying  out"  of  Lynch,  who 
had  just  closed  a  day  of  delirium  and  a  life  of  shame 
and  crime  by  falling  alseep — that  last  sleep  which  knows 
no  waking.  Poor  youth!  his  dying  request  was  that  his 
sister,  a  prostitute  of  Binghamton,  should  be  tele- 
graphed for.  It  had  already  been  done;  but  she  neglected 
to  come,  I  suppose. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  duty  to  disrobe,  and  handle  a 
corpse;  but  I  desired  to  conquer  my  aversion  to  such 
matters;  and  therefore,  I  took  my  first  lesson  then  and 
there.  Few  are  the  attentions  however,  that  are  given  to 
convict  corpses.  With  no  other  shroud  than  an  old  shirt 
— the  one  they  had  on — they  are  laid  on  a  sheet  on  the 
floor,  until  a  coffin  is  fetched.  It  is  only  a  rough  pine  box, 
and  contains  a  few  shavings,  or  a  little  straw,  upon  which 
the  body  is  quickly  placed,  a  nail  or  two  driven,  and  the 
whole  carried  away  to  a  felon's  grave  or  the  dissecting 
table,  as  the  case  may  be.  Our  surgeon  is  also  professor 
in  the  medical  college  of  this  city ;  and  has  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  select  fine  subjects  for  his  knife. 

Apropos  of  corpses  I  must  mention  that  we  have  here 
a  large  Thomas  cat  who  is  in  the  room  with  the  bodies 
all  night  long,  but  never  makes  the  least  attempt  to  dis- 
turb them ;  thus  contradicting  the  old  crony  theory  that 
cats  will  attack  the  dead.  But  perhaps  our  Tom  is  an 
educated  cat.  He  is  well  trained  in  some  things  (self 
trained  too)  I  could  mention;  for  he  does  not  give  us 
the  slightest  trouble  although  in  the  room  day  and  night. 
Usually  he  sleeps  under  the  blankets  with  some  of  the 
men.  Salt  meat  he  wont  touch;  tea  is  a  favorite  drink; 
and  he  will  not  bite  his  own  food ;  it  must  be  cut  for  him. 
And  so  no  more  about  Thomas,  except  that  he  eats 
fresh  straw  like  an  ox. 

Dec.  A.     Capt.  P.  fetched  me  a  note  from  father, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  287 

open  as  usual.  I  trust  the  Mongrels  enjoy  my  corre- 
spondence. 

The  Columbia  S.  C.  papers  say  that  the  Governor, 
and  Governor-elect,  and  many  State  Officials  (Radical) 
have  signed  an  appeal  to  the  President  for  the  pardon 
of  the  Ku  Klux  here.  The  Grand  Juries  of  York  and 
Chester  counties  have  sent  up  a  similar  petition.  This 
looks  like  earnest  work;  and  ought  to  silence  some  of 
the  Radical  papers  that  still  harangue  the  public  in  de- 
nunciation of  us.  But  they  know  that  they  have  been 
apologising  for  an  infamous  crime  committed  by  the 
government  under  the  forms  of  law,  and  now  they  fear 
that  a  returning  sense  of  justice  may  lead  public  opinion 
to  re-act  on  them.  For  instance,  hear  the  Raleigh  Era, 
edited,  I  presume,  by  Lewis  Hanes  of  Salisbury  who 
was  once  my  friend,  and  a  staunch  conservative;  but 
basely  went  over  to  the  Mongrels  for  the  contemptible 
bribe  of  the  Editorship  of  the  "Era"  I  thought  better 
of  the  man;  but  it  is  impossible  to  "touch  pitch  without 
being  defiled,' '  and  Hanes  has  long  been  too  "moder- 
ate" for  a  good  and  true  Southern  man. 

That  Captain  Shotwell  and  his  associates  will  all 
be  released  and  returned  home  long  before  their 
terms  of  imprisonment  expire,  we  have  not  a  doubt, 
notwithstanding  the  imprudence  of  their  friends 
who  seem  to  have  sympathetically  determined  the 
prejudice  of  their  cases;  but  such  release  will  not 
be  obtained  on  any  promises  of  political  support 
to  the  Republican  party. 

But  whenever  the  President  and  the  country  is 
satisfied  that  the  spirit  of  Ku  Kluxism  is  dead  in 
this  State,  all  who  have  participated  therein  will  be 
forgiven,  and  the  punishment  of  those  under  con- 
viction promptly  remitted.  We  confidently  look  to 
such  consummation,  and  we  earnestly  appeal  to 
every  citizen  of  North  Carolina  to  join  in  bringing 
about  an  end  and  a  state  of  affairs  so  devoutly  to  be 
wished  for. 

Hanes  knows  perfectly  well  that  there  are  no  dis- 
turbances to  warrant  our  retention  here,  even  if  there 
were  legitimate  excuse  for  the  original  sentence.  But  it 


288  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

was  necessary  for  him  to  make  some  reply  to  the  popu- 
lar cry  against  our  being  held,  and  here  we  have  it. 

Dec.  6th.  Have  just  had  the  surprise  and  gratifica- 
tion of  a  visit  from  Bro.  M.  who  ran  up  from  Princeton 
to  bring  me  some  needed  articles,  viz:  Hair  and  tooth 
brush,  soap,  sugar,  coffee,  spice,  gloves,  neckties  (which, 
however,  I  am  not  permitted  to  wear) ,  blank  book,  etc. 
He  says  he  saw  Gen  Karge  before  starting  who  desired 
him  to  tell  me  to  draw  up  a  full  statement  of  my  case 
and  send  him,  as  he  expects  ere  long  to  visit  Washington 
and  shall  make  it  his  business  to  work  for  me,  etc. 

Poor  brother!  He  looks  badly  and  is  in  much  pecuni- 
ary perplexity.  I  wish  I  could  help  him.  But  I  can't.  Our 
interview  was  short  and  unsatisfactory,  owing  to  the 
presence  of  Genl.  P.  who  was  in  bad  health  and  seemed 
anxious  to  get  out  of  the  cold  room.  Indeed  the  result 
of  the  visit  is  only  to  make  me  very  sad.  I  shall  not  see 
him  again  soon  I  think. 

Dec.  7th.  Sat  up  till  past  midnight  with  Light  who 
is  literally  rotting  to  death;  the  natural  result  of  a  life 
of  vicious  sensuality  and  intemperance. 

Dec.  8th.     Up  half  of  last  night  with  Light. 

Dec.  9th.  Light  went  out  at  4%  P.  M.  yesterday. 
This  fellow's  real  name  is  said  to  be  Fuel,  Joe  Fuel  of 
Ohio,  but  he  assumed  the  name  of  Light,  which  is  quite 
appropriate,  as  I  dare  say  he  is  serving  for  light  and  fuel 
both,  in  His  Satanic  Majesty's  Big  Kitchen  at  the  pres- 
ent moment.  Pious  people  might  reprove  me  for  jesting 
on  so  serious  a  subject,  and  to  be  sure  it  is  a  lapsus 
pennae;  but  a  little  flippancy  seems  indispensable  to  ex- 
istence amid  so  many  depressing  influences.  1ST.  B.  Here 
am  I  spending  the  bloom  of  youth  within  prison  walls, 
and  occupying  my  time  watching  by  the  bedside  of  sick 
ruffians,  and  "laying  out"  filthy  creatures  in  whom  no 
man  could  take  the  slightest  interest. 

Dec.  11th.  The  Supervisors  of  the  Institution,  sev- 
eral hundred  in  number,  have  just  passed  through  on  a 
tour  of  inspection ;  a  mere  matter  of  form  of  course.  Most 
of  them  were  laughing,  talking  and  paying  no  attention 
whatever  to  the  condition  of  the  building.  Yet  I  must 
admit  that  there  is  no  necessity  for  much  examination 


The  Shotwell  Papers  289 

as  one  may  see  at  a  glance  that  the  establishment  is  well 
kept,  and  in  the  best  of  order.  Still  if  the  supervisors 
were  on  an  official  tour  they  ought  to  have  examined 
things  in  detail. 

Capt.  P.  called  me  down  to  caution  me  against  C.  a 
plausible  fellow,  formerly  a  colonel  in  the  Yankee 
Army,  who  was  once  Hospital  Steward  himself,  but  lost 
his  position  by  making  love  to  a  silly  matron,  whom  he 
persuaded  that  he  was  immensely  rich,  and  should  cer- 
tainly marry  her  when  he  got  out.  This  seems  to  have 
been  quite  a  Platonic  affair ;  as  they  could  not  get  within 
30  feet  of  each  other — she  being  on  the  ground  and  he 
on  the  2nd  floor  behind  a  barred  window.  But  they  kept 
up  a  daily  correspondence  by  means  of  a  piece  of  string 
which  the  lover  let  down  to  receive  the  billet  douce  of  his 
mistress.  Finally,  however,  a  false  friend  revealed  the 
intrigue  to  the  officers,  and  Clark  was  sent  to  the  work- 
shops to  make  shoes.  The  matron  (who  was  one  of  the 
paid  attaches  of  the  institution)  was  discharged.  It  only 
remains  to  add  that  the  gay  Lothario  is  62  years  old! 
He  is  now  brought  up  to  the  Hospital  with  something 
like  the  jaundice. 

Capt.  P.  also  gave  me  some  disheartening  news  from 
the  seat  of  war.  The  Attorney  Genl.  of  the  U.  S.  replies 
to  the  S.  C.  petitioners  that  there  will  be  no  "General 
Jail  Delivery"  of  K.  K.  prisoners;  but  that  each  case 
will  be  considered  separately  and  pardon  be  meted  to 
the  most  deserving.  This  is  the  substance.  The  motive 
and  the  object  are  plain  as  daylight.  Motives:  1st.  to 
prevent  further  application  by  influential  Radicals,  or 
any  general  expression  of  sympathy  by  our  friends. 
2nd.  to  afford  an  excuse  for  delaying  action  as  long  as 
possible.  3rd.  to  fill  the  pockets  of  the  creatures  about 
the  courts,  who  will  of  course  demand  full  fees  for  the 
necessary  transcript  of  judgment,  etc. 

Finally  by  this  plan  every  prisoner  can  be  made  to 
humble  himself,  to  promise  to  support  the  Radical  party, 
and  to  bring  his  friends  under  some  apparent  obligation 
to  the  government  by  granting  pardon  in  response  to 
their  petition.  Bah!  'twas  a  most  contemptible  piece  of 
chicanery. 


290  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Capt.  P.  consoles  me  with  his  opinion  that  we  shall 
all  be  out  in  6  or  8  months  or  so!  Which  is  like  telling 
an  hungry  man  he  shall  get  his  dinner  tomorrow  or  next 
day,  or  some  time  soon !  Still  I  am  obliged  to  agree  with 
him ;  although  I  presume  there  is  a  lurking  imp  of  Hope 
somewhere  in  my  soul  or  I  could  not  be  so  cheerful  in 
the  face  of  such  a  future.  Goldsmith  says — 

"Hope  like  the  glimmering  tapers  light 
Illumes  and  cheers  our  way 
And  still  as  darker  grows  the  night 
Emits  a  brighter  ray." 

Dec.  12th.  Kind  and  sympathetic  letter  from  Mrs. 
J.  B.  M.,  who  writes  as  if  she  knew  something  about 
corresponding  with  a  prisoner.  She  also  cheers  me  by 
the  assurance  that  all  the  good  people  of  Rutherford 
know  (none  better  than  herself)  how  much  I  have  been 
wronged,  and  injured  by  our  vile  enemies.  Perhaps  they 
do,  Aunt  Muff,  but  not  all  of  them  have  the  courage 
to  say  so,  like  you. 

Dec.  15th.  Becket,  a  negro,  died.  Strange  how 
quickly  we  become  accustomed  to  death !  Two  hours  ago 
I  assisted  to  stretch  this  fellow  on  the  floor,  and  had  ac- 
tually forgotten  him,  when  just  now  I  glanced  around 
and  saw  the  corpse.  Yet  I  sat  up  with  him  for  several 
nights,  and  tended  him  as  patiently  as  if  he  had  not  been 
a  black  cut  throat.  Becket  stabbed  a  man  in  the  streets 
of  Washington,  for  accidentally  running  afoul  of  him  in 
a  violent  storm.  He  never  gave  the  slightest  sign  of  re- 
morse; but  pretended  to  die  a  Christian.  A  letter  from 
his  mother,  breathing  the  most  affectionate  sentiments 
and  in  a  style  superior  to  most  letters  from  colored  peo- 
ple, came  today  just  in  time  to  be  too  late. 

Dec.  16th.  A  kind  but  not  very  palatable  letter  from 
Aunt  Susie;  who  as  I  expected  is  thoroughly  prejudiced 
by  the  misrepresentations  of  the  South  and  the  K.  K. 
which  have  been  poured  into  her  ears  from  the  hour  she 
landed  in  America.  I  have  written  the  following  letter, 
which  I  here  copy  because  it  will  show  my  views  on  the 
question  of  my  imprisonment,  etc.,  in  a  concise  form  for 
future  reference.  Yet  I  do  not  hope  to  change  her  opin- 
ion; for  ladies  of  her  age  do  not  easily  surrender  their 


The  Shotwell  Papers  291 

opinions — especially  if  there  is  a  family  or  local  preju- 
dice involved  in  them.  Still  I  think  she  ought  to  know 
what  my  complaints  are;  and  therefore  I  write  as  fol- 
lows. 

Albany  Penitentiary,  Dec.  16th,  1872.  Dear 
Aunt.  Perhaps  it  is  not  worth  while  to  trouble  you 
with  another  letter,  but  you  ask  me  to  write,  &  it 
seems  to  be  due  my  own  reputation  to  attempt  to 
disabuse  your  mind  of  an  erroneous  impression, 
i.  e.  that  I  have  been  "breaking  the  laws/'  "acting  in 
defiance  of  the  laws  of  my  country"  &c.  I  do  assure 
you  that  I  have  done  nothing  of  the  sort  and  the 
assumption  does  me  great  injustice.  I  have  violated 
no  law,  state  nor  national,  except  that  piece  of  par- 
tizan,  sectional  legislation,  known  as  the  Ku  Klux 
Bill,  which  the  Supreme  Court  (as  I  am  credibly 
informed)  has  already  declared  unconstitutional. 
But  my  liability  under  even  that  act,  arises  from  its 
ex  post  facto  effect,  because  I  had  become  a  member 
of  the  Klan  long  before  its  enactment. 

My  motives  for  connecting  myself  with  that  or- 
ganization were  entirely  conscientious.  I  believed 
that  it  was  necessary — and  if  rightly  conducted 
would  be  beneficial  to  the  country — our  Southern 
Country  I  mean.  Its  objects  were  good  and  patri- 
otic: To  maintain  order,  to  check  loose  morality, 
to  assist  the  needy  and  protect  the  helpless,  and  to 
counteract  the  pernicious  teachings  of  base  and  un- 
scrupulous men,  most  of  them  vagabonds  from  the 
North,  who  were  fast  deceiving,  misleading,  coax- 
ing, and  driving  the  credulous  and  excitable  negroes 
into  a  course  of  flagitous  crime  and  outrage  that 
bid  fair  to  repeat  the  horrors  of  St  Domingo  on  our 
soil.  These  I  say  were  the  objects  of  the  order.  And 
I  think  you  will  admit  there  is  nothing  objection- 
able in  them. 

It  is  entirely  untrue  that  we  had  any  disloyal  or 
treasonable  intent.  The  very  first  clause  of  a  most 
solemn  Oath,  bound  us  to  support  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States  as  handed  down  to  us  by  our 
forefathers — aye  to  support  and  defend  it  too !  And 


292  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

among  our  members  were  scores  of  men  who  were 
obliged  to  live  in  caves,  and  lonely  forests  all 
through  the  war  because  of  the  Union  Sentiments. 
Would  these  men  now  engage  in  a  treasonable  con- 
spiracy? 

It  is  true  that  the  Order  had  a  political  coloring, 
was  for  the  most  part  composed  of  Democrats ;  but 
this  should  not  be  held  to  attaint  it  with  disloyalty, 
and  lay  liable  its  members  to  trial  for  conspiracy, 
so  long  as  the  whole  country  is  covered  with  Radi- 
cal secret  societies  of  a  similar  character  that  are 
not  counted  treasonable.  Many  of  my  Northern 
cousins  I  daresay  are  connected  with  the  "Union 
League"  or  the  "Grand  Army  of  the  Republic/' 
both  of  which  are  secret  organizations  with  signs, 
grips,  and  passwords  precisely  like  the  Klan  and 
yet  I  have  no  idea  that  they  (my  cousins)  will  be 
arrested,  thrown  into  jail  without  privilege  of 
bail,  dragged  from  place  to  place  in  handcuffs,  tried 
before  a  packed  jury,  and  finally  sentenced  to  the 
Penitentiary  for  a  large  part  of  an  ordinary  life 
time.  No  they  run  no  risk  of  this  because  they  live 
in  the  North  and  are  in  accord  with  the  sentiments 
of  the  administration.  But  let  them  go  to  N.  C.  and 
give  offense  to  the  petty  powers  that  be  under 
Grant  in  that  State  and  they  shall  do  well  if  they 
escape  my  experience.  However,  you  may  say  that 
other  secret  political  associations  do  not  seek  to 
carry  their  purposes  by  violence,  whipping,  hanging, 
and  shooting  their  opponents.  To  which  I  reply, 
nor  did  the  Klan.  We  have  been  outrageously  mis- 
represented on  this  head.  I  have  made  diligent  in- 
quiry into  the  so-called  "Ku  Klux  Outrages"  and 
I  can  hear  of  no  case  in  which  the  sufferer  was  mo- 
lested merely  on  account  of  his  political  opinions; 
some  piece  of  aggravated  misconduct  invariably  in- 
duced the  attack.  Yet  let  any  thief,  robber,  barn 
burner,  ravisher,  or  other  desperado  be  lynched  by 
the  Klan,  and  mighty  quickly  would  he  put  up  a 
piteous  howl  about  "Rebel  Barbarity,"  "political 
persecution,"  and  the  like,  and  forthwith  the  whole 


The  Shotwell  Papers  293 

North  would  blaze  with  indignation,  and  the  Radi- 
cal press  teem  with  accounts  and  denunciations  of 
"outrages"  on  "Union  men,"  or  "respectable  col- 
ored men"  by  Rebel  Ku  Klux.  By  such  falsehoods, 
persistently  retailed,  the  Northern  people  have 
been  miserably  deceived  and  prejudiced. 

Now  please  do  not  misunderstand  me.  I  have  no 
apology  for  any  act  of  violence  actually  committed 
by  the  Klan  (unless  necessity  compelled  it)  but  I 
merely  wish  to  show  you,  first,  that  there  was 
nothing  in  the  nature  of  the  order  to  make  my  con- 
nection with  it,  an  indictable  offense;  and  second, 
that  I  neither  approve  of  nor  participated  in  any 
of  these  alleged  "Outrages."  At  my  trial  it  was 
elicited  from  the  government  witnesses — perjured 
wretches  though  they  were — that  I  had  always  dis- 
countenanced such  proceedings  in  my  part  of  the 
country  and  that  I  had  actually  threatened  to  ex- 
pose any  raiders  of  whom  I  could  obtain  informa- 
tion. 

There  is  little  of  the  rowdy  in  my  disposition,  I 
think,  and  I  trust  I  have  too  much  of  my  sainted 
Mother's  high  tone  of  character,  to  disguise  myself 
like  a  mountebank,  and  go  prowling  about  the  coun- 
try in  company  with  a  lot  of  low  felons,  such  as 
were  the  perpetrators  of  these  "outrages."  I  never 
wore  a  disguise  in  my  life,  either  for  my  face  or  my 
sentiments. 

But  why  say  more?  I  have  assured  you  already 
that  I  am  an  innocent  and  cruelly  wronged  man. 
And  I  think  my  conduct  during  the  past  18  months' 
confinement  ought  to  add  some  weight  to  my  pro- 
testations. Has  not  liberty  been  offered  to  me  re- 
peatedly, merely  upon  condition  of  my  confessing, 
of  my  making  some  penitence  ?  And  is1  it  likely  that  I, 
unaccustomed  as  I  was  to  any  sort  of  manual  labor, 
and  naturally  of  a  fastidious  and  sensitive  tempera- 
ment, would  continue  to  undergo  year  after  year 
of  drudgery,  of  indescribable  discomfort,  of  igno- 
minious confinement,  of  mental  stagnation  (as  far 
as  the  exterior  world  is  concerned) ,  all  for  nothing, 


294  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

or  for  a  lie,  out  of  sheer  obstinacy?  No,  Auntie,  I 
think  not;  I  am  not  of  the  stuff  of  which  martyrs 
are  made;  I  could  not  long  hold  out  against  the 
temptation  of  fresh  free  air,  and  green  fields,  and 
sweet  society,  and  Nature's  Kitchen  bounties,  if  I 
did  not  feel  that  it  would  be  a  crime  to  blacken  my 
character  with  my  own  tongue.  No,  I  am  here  in 
a  Penitentiary;  sent  here  by  the  foul  injustice  of 
our  oppressors,  but  I  shall  never  confess  that  I  am 
worthy  to  be  here. 

You  saw  my  published  letter.  Since  it  appeared 
Mr.  Smith  has  written  me  to  regret  his  misappre- 
hension of  me  and  to  say  that  he  would  be  glad  to 
be  of  service  to  me,  although  the  first  step  on  my 
part  must  be  confession!  To  whom  I  replied  that  I 
had  nothing  to  confess ;  and  even  if  I  knew  anything 
of  importance  I  should  never  purchase  freedom  at 
the  price  of  treachery  and  dishonor  of  that  sort.  I 
consider,  therefore,  that  there  is  small  chance  of  my 
release  short  of  my  full  term,  which  is  a  matter  of 
five  years  or  so  longer. 

I  have  now  given  you,  my  dear  Aunt,  a  frank 
and  candid  view  of  my  views  and  you  will  see  how 
much  I  was  pained  by  your  censure,  even  though 
veiled  as  it  was,  in  civil  language  and  accompanied 
by  a  practical  token  of  your  affection.  We  will  now 
if  you  please  dismiss  the  subject  once  for  all.  Any 
further  allusion  to  it  will  be  distasteful  to  me ;  unless 
at  any  time  you  shall  come  to  agree  with  me  that  I 
have  been  the  victim  of  shameful  tyranny  and  in- 
justice on  the  part  of  the  government.  ..." 

Dec.  20th.  Genl.  P.  who  read  my  letter  to  Aunt 
Susie,  tells  me  that  the  Supreme  Court  has  pronounced 
the  decision  in  the  K.  K.  case;  and  that  I  am  in  error 
about  it.  In  proof  of  which  he  sent  me  the  following. 

The  South  Carolina  Ku  Kluoc  Case. 
Washington,  Dec.   16th. — The   South  Carolina 
Ku  Klux  case  was  disposed  of  in  the  Supreme 
Court  today  as  follows: 

Ex  Parte. — T.  Jefferson  Greer  on  habeas  corpus 
to  the  Marshal  of  the  District  of  South  Carolina. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  295 

In  this  case  Greer  was  held  under  a  bench  warrant, 
issued  by  the  Circuit  Court  upon  indictment  charg- 
ing him  with  a  felony  under  the  Enforcement  act 
of  1870.  The  question  was  whether  this  Court  had 
jurisdiction  to  discharge  the  prisoner  on  habeas 
corpus.  The  Court  are  divided  in  opinion,  and  the 
writ  is  denied  in  consequence.  A  decision  of  the  case 
would  have  involved  also  a  decision  upon  the  ques- 
tion of  the  constitutionality  of  the  Enforcement 
act.  The  case  was  argued  last  spring. 

But  I  dont  think  this  is  the  leading  K.  K.  case  which 
is  that  of  Hays  Mitchell,  whose  attorneys,  Hon  Reverdy 
Johnson  and  A.  H.  Stanbery  were  given  $15,000  to 
argue  his  case,  and  they  appealed  to  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States.  Still  it  does  not  make  much  dif- 
ference ;  because  the  Supreme  Court  is  now  only  a  mock- 
tribunal  used  by  the  Radical  leaders  in  Congress  to  sanc- 
tion their  violence  by  the  appearance  of  legality. 

Dec.  21.  Heavy  fall  of  snow.  Cold  as  at  Spitz- 
bergen!  How  I  wish  I  was  in  Dixie. 

Dec.  24th.  Roan,  another  darkey,  died.  Getting 
rather  too  much  practice  in  the  "Obsequies"  line.  These 
miserable  creatures  are  generally  half  putrid  when  they 
die ;  consequently  the  preparation  of  their  bodies  for  the 
coffin,  small  though  it  be,  is  anything  but  agreeable  to 
me — even  to  superintend. 

Dec.  25th.  This  day  is  called  Christmas  by  most  peo- 
ple, and  is  supposed  to  usher  in  a  season  of  songs,  glad- 
ness, and  good  cheer.  Not  so  here.  Santa  Claus  posi- 
tively "cuts"  the  establishment.  He  brings  gifts,  mirth, 
nor  music,  nor  even  rest,  for  the  convicts  labor  all  day, 
and  all  the  ensuing  week  without  any  "variation  or 
shadow  of  turning."  Christmas  avaunt!  Begone!  Appear 
to  me  no  longer,  even  in  memory!  What  happiness  we 
might  have  if  we  could  but  forget  at  pleasure !  The  gift 
of  memory  is  a  blessing  but  the  gift  of  Forgetfulness 
would  be  a  greater  one  to  nine-tenths  of  the  world. 

Dec.  26th,  1872.  Well  I  thought  it  would  be  queer 
if  I  should  have  no  Christmas — and  so  at  last  it  has 
come!  The  gong  sounded  an  hour  or  two  ago,  and  on 
my  going  down,  I  found  the  Deputy  with  a  large  box 


296  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

from  home !  It  was  a  most  charming  surprise,  for  I  had 
no  knowledge  that  one  was  on  the  road  or  even  in  prepa- 
ration. Contents :  large  fruit  cake,  bottle  wine,  gallon  of 
brandied  peaches,  grape  preserves,  chow-chow,  pepper 
sauce,  walnuts,  etc.,  tippet  for  the  neck,  wrist  cuffs,  neck 
ties,  etc.,  all  of  the  nicest  sort.  Therefore,  I  poured  out 
a  libation  to  the  muse,  naming  my  kind,  thoughtful  and 
generous  little  friend,  the  donor,  in  a  poetical  toast, 
whereof  the  refrain  was: 

Let  your  summer  friends  go  by 
With  the  summer  weather 
Hearts  there  are  that  will  not  fly 
When  the  storm  clouds  gather. 

And  to  you,  Mademoiselle  Mignon  ma  belle,  I  wish 
joy,  contentment,  and  all  the  happiness  that  can  attend 
the  young  and  pure-hearted! 

Dec.  28th.  A  little  after  midnight  I  was  awakened 
by  the  now  familiar  sound  of  the  death  rattle;  it  was 
another  darkey,  Moore,  bidding  us  good  bye.  He  was  so 
full  of  scrofula  it  is  surprising  he  did  not  go  sooner. 
These  Northern  negroes,  living  in  the  large  cities  be- 
come so  shattered  by  vice  that  the  least  cold,  or  indispo- 
sition generally  results  fatally.  Besides  a  darkey  gives 
up  as  soon  as  he  is  flat  of  his  back,  and  disease  has  only 
to  draw  his  last  breath  for  him.  A  very  nasty  breath  it 
is,  too. 

Dec.  29.  Letter  from  father  via  Charlotte,  whither 
it  was  sent  to  escape  the  Mongrel  Post  Office  thieves. 
Gov.  Vance  (to  whom  it  had  been  sent  under  cover) 
added  his  kind  regards,  and  compliments  of  the  Season. 
Dear  father  does  not  write  cheerfully — it  is  saddening 
to  see  how  depressed,  and  unhappy  he  is — although  he 
tries  to  encourage  me.  Alas!  he  has  little  rest  or  enjoy- 
ment in  these  winters  of  his  life.  I  can  only  hope  he  may 
survive  all  to  welcome  me  home,  and  learn  my  solicitude 
to  contribute  whatever  is  in  my  power,  to  his  happiness. 

Dec.  30th.  Ten  citizens  of  South  Carolina  were 
brought  here  on  the  night  of  the  28th.  One  is  Rev.  Jno. 
S.  Ezell,  an  old  man,  and  a  preacher  of  some  fame 
among  the  Baptists  of  upper  S.  C.  Nearly  all  are  mid- 
dle aged  men.  Alfred  Le  Masters,  H.  C.  Mathias  and 


The  Shotwell  Papers  297 

Jno  Whitlock  are  from  Union  Co;  Robt  Moore,  W.  C. 
Whitesides,  Marion  Fowler,  Jas.  A.  Donald  from  York 
District. 

This  batch  arrived  about  10  o'clock  at  night  and  I 
(who  was  sitting  up  at  the  time)  really  pitied  them  for 
the  aspect  of  the  place  is  dreary  enough  in  its  best  looks 
to  say  nothing  of  being  ushered  to  one's  cell  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  awaking  to  find  what  they  found.  I  know 
nothing  about  these  men;  but  I  have  heard  that  Mr. 
Ezell  is  only  charged  with  simple  connection  with  the 
Klan !  How  great  the  outrage  to  send  a  gray  haired  min- 
ister of  the  Gospel  to  the  Penitentiary  for  no  other  of- 
fense than  connection  with  a  Society  organized  to  pre- 
serve order  and  a  semblance,  if  no  more,  of  morality,  in 
the  community. 

These  arrivals  are  no  very  promising  indication  of 
my  own  liberation,  because  it  is  not  probable  the  Ad- 
ministration would  continue  its  persecutions  if  there  was 
any  intention  to  do  justice  to  those  already  doomed. 

Still  this  is  only  as  I  expected;  I  have  never  been 
sanguine  of  getting  out  before  the  termination  of  my  un- 
just sentence.  Patience!  Patience!  Patience!  That  is  the 
only  motto  I  need  trouble  myself  to  obtain. 
"May  better  days  soon  be  our  lot 
Or  better  courage — if  we  have  them  not." 

Dec.  31st.  Peterson  (negro)  died  at  1%  A.  M., 
the  sixth  man  in  five  weeks.  This  is  going  off  pretty  fast ; 
although  the  percentage  is  not  large  (there  are  600  in- 
mates) considering  the  character  of  the  majority  of  the 
convicts,  whose  constitutions  are  worn  out  before  they 
come  here. 

Jan.  1st,  1873.  The  gloomiest  day  of  the  year,  I 
fancy.  Had  some  trouble  with  refractory  patients,  which 
kept  me  in  an  ill-humor  half  the  day. 

Jan.  2nd.  Having  laid  down  a  rule  to  do  as  much  as 
I  can  for  my  f ellowman,  no  matter  what  my  own  situa- 
tion may  be,  I  sometime  ago  began  to  teach  old  man 
Scruggs  his  letters.  Already  he  is  making  some  advance, 
and  I  shall  try  to  teach  him  to  write,  telling  him  as  an 
incentive  the  gratification  it  would  give  his  wife  to  have 


298  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

a  letter  from  him  in  his  own  hand  writing.  Thus  I  hope 
to  do  a  little  good  even  in  a  Penitentiary. 

Chaplain  R.  came  in  and  chatted  pleasantly  with  me 
for  an  hour  or  more.  Asked  me  if  I  expected  to  enter 
public  life  when  released.  I  replied  that  I  believed  it  to 
be  due  myself,  my  family,  and  my  friends  to  obtain  all 
possible  elevation  in  life  that  my  reputation  might  be 
cleared  by  the  testimony  of  after  years,  etc.,  etc.  He 
wished  me  success  and  seemed  to  think  I  might  obtain 
it  by  proper  conduct.  This  gentleman  is  quite  popular 
as  Chaplain,  and  is  peculiarly  qualified  for  the  post, 
having  been  rather  wild  himself  in  his  youth,  as  he  fre- 
quently tells  us. 

Jan.  5th.  Kind  letter  from  A.  P.,  but  so  feminine !  I 
begged  her  to  send  me  some  newspaper  extracts  giving 
me  news,  but  lo !  an  whole  column  of  twaddle  about  the 
sleighing  in  N.  Y.  City !  As  if  I  cared  a  picayune  for  all 
the  sleighing  parties  in  Yankeedom.  Few  of  my  corre- 
spondents, however,  do  much  better.  It  seems  impossible 
to  make  them  understand  that  I  am  not  a  fool,  that  I  am 
not  interested  in  mere  idle  gossip,  that  I  am  anxious  for 
the  general  and  political  intelligence  of  the  day.  Mel. 
sent  me  leaves  from  the  almanac,  until  I  sent  him  word 
that  I  had  a  perfect  almanac  in  the  letters  I  received 
weekly;  and  I  should  be  glad  to  have  a  page  from  the 
dictionary  as  a  change.  Poor  M.  felt  hurt  about  it,  as  he 
thought  I  would  be  at  a  loss  to  count  the  flight  of  time, 
hence  the  Almanac.  But  I  could  tell  him  Time  has  no 
flight  within  these  walls.  He  is  a  slow  coach,  a  rheumatic 
on  stilts.  Instead  of  flying  he  creeps.  I'm  sick  of  him! 
We  take  no  note  of  Time — and  not  many  notes  of  any- 
body else. 

"Day  chases  night,  and  night  the  day, 
But  no  Relief  to  me  convey." 

Deputy  has  just  brought  me  a  note  from  father,  dated 
Dec.  23rd,  but  post  marked  at  Rutherf ordton,  Jan.  1st ; 
having  been  a  full  week  in  the  hands  of  the  Mongrels. 
Father  says,  "I  intend  between  this  date  and  1st  of  April 
1873  (only  3  months!)  to  make  an  earnest,  well  consid- 
ered movement  for  your  release — on  the  ground  of  jus- 
tice if  possible,  but  release  at  all  events. . . .  The  Supreme 


The  Shotwell  Papers  299 

Court  has  not  declared  its  decision,  nor  does  the  present 
administration  wish  it.  The  President  would  rather  par- 
don all  the  Ku  Klux  than  have  this  decision  made  public. 
If  it  can  be  suppressed  in  any  way  it  will  be  ....  I  shall 
make  haste  slowly,  but  certainly  and  in  reliance  on  the 
aid  of  my  covenant  keeping  God,  I  now  think  you  can 
calculate  on  release  by  the  first  of  April,  without  doubt" 
I  doubt ! 

Poor  father!  your  expectations  are  illusory,  your  ef- 
forts will  be  fruitless.  The  1st  of  April  will  come — and 
May — and  June — and  April  again;  but  the  "whirligig 
of  Time,"  though  ever  changing  will  bring  no  change 
for  me,  until  the  last  moment  of  my  unjust  sentence 
shall  expire.  Nothing  short  of  a  revolution,  or  a  general 
jail  delivery  such  as  Napoleon  made  when  he  turned 
loose  the  miserable  victims  of  the  Inquisition  in  Italy,  is 
likely  to  liberate  me  before  that  limit.  Yet,  while  I  can 
but  know  the  futility  of  all  hope,  I  cannot  cease  to  hope. 
And  doubtless  it  is  well  that  the  mind  can  thus  cling  to 
a  shadow;  for  otherwise  the  Reason  must  totter.  It  is  a 
well  known  fact  that  there  is  not  one  man  in  ten  of  the 
prisoners  here,  who  does  not  expect  pardon,  or  release 
in  a  short  period. 

Jan.  6th.  I  have  now  a  patient  who  throws  up  over 
a  quart  of  blood  every  day!  Strange  vitality  that  can 
endure  such  depletion  of  the  vital  forces  daily.  This  fel- 
low is  superstitious,  ignorant  and  debased,  yet  I  pity 
him;  he  has  twelve  years  yet  to  serve.  But  he  will  not 
serve  them.  He  called  me  this  evening  to  ask  if  I  thought 
they  would  dissect  him  when  he  died,  and  seemed  so 
agitated  about  it  that  I  took  pains  to  assure  him  there  is 
not  the  least  likelihood  of  it,  as  his  disease  is  too  common 
to  make  his  case  at  all  interesting  to  the  surgeons.  Rather 
a  poor  consolation  I  should  think,  to  know  that  one 
wont  be  cut  up  when  he  dies.  For  my  part  when  I  am 
done  with  my  physical  apparatus,  the  Doctors  are  wel- 
come to  it. 

Jan.  9th,  1873.  I  am  glad  to  know  that  David  Col- 
lins is  on  his  way  home  at  last !  The  wrongs  and  suffer- 
ings of  this  innocent  and  ignorant  old  man,  I  have  often 
alluded  to  in  these  pages.  He  lives  in  S.  C.  but  was  en- 


300  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ticed  over  the  State  line  into  N.  C.  by  one  Leander 
Jolly,  acting  deputy  United  States  Marshal,  who  came 
to  Collins's  humble  dwelling  to  get  supper,  and  pretend- 
ing not  to  know  the  road,  begged  his  host  to  act  as  his 
guide,  and  then  when  in  Rutherford,  arrested  him!  His 
aged  wife  was  left  sick  in  bed!  The  old  man  was  then 
carried  300  miles  to  Raleigh,  where  he  had  neither 
money,  friends,  nor  witnesses;  and  being  tried  before 
a  packed  jury,  was  sentenced  to  four  years  at  hard  labor 
here.  Judge  Bond  admitted  that  the  only  evidence 
against  him  was  to  the  effect  that  he  had  loaned  his  mule 
and  gun  to  a  party  of  raiders  who  demanded  them ;  but 
nothing  could  save  him  before  such  a  Judge.  When 
brought  here  he  was  placed  in  a  cell  by  himself,  which 
was  kindly  meant,  but,  as  he  could  neither  read  nor 
write,  was  very  bad  for  him. 

How  often  have  I  pitied  the  poor  old  man,  as  I  saw 
him  going  out  to  the  shops  through  all  sorts  of  inclem- 
ent weather,  bent  in  body — sorrowful  in  countenance, 
toiling  his  way  down  to  the  grave ! 

But  he  is  free  at  last,  thanks  to  Gerrit  Smith,  and  his 
own  pitiful  humility;  and  as  I  said,  it  gives  me  real 
pleasure  to  hear  it ;  although  I  knew  him  not  before  my 
arrest,  and  am  not  desirous  of  seeing  him  again. 

Now  if  a  few  more  innocent  men  could  get  out  the 
public  would  begin  to  learn  something  about  the  wrongs 
that  lie  almost  hidden  by  these  walls. 

Jan.  12th,  Letter  from  Bro.  M.  who  says  father  is 
certain  of  having  me  out  soon.  Ah !  yes  Soon!  How  I  dis- 
like that  word !  Every  letter  I  receive  promises  me  free- 
dom "soon"  All  my  friends  are  going  to  write  "soon" 
Or  I  am  to  receive  something  "soon"  Or  this  or  that 
will  be  done  "soon"  And  after  weeks  and  months  of  in- 
terminable length  I  am  still  fed  up  with  promises  of 
what  shall  occur  "soon"  Bah!  There  is  no  meaning  to 
the  word  for  one  in  my  situation.  No  brevity  of  Time  is 
soon  to  the  weary  occupant  of  a  tread  mill. 

Now  I  do  not  mean  to  reflect  on  the  earnestness,  af- 
fection, nor  watchful  care  of  my  welfare  of  my  father, 
nor  my  friends.  That  they  will  do  all  they  can  for  me  as 
speedily  as  possible  I  know.  But  I  wish  I  were  not 


The  Shotwell  Papers  301 

treated  so  much  like  a  child,  who  must  be  encouraged  by 
unmeaning  assurances,  such  as,  "Be  still,  baby,  it  will 
quit  hurting  soon" 

Jan.  13th.  It  is  a  familiar  saying  that  "crime  is  never 
young";  and,  judging  from  the  looks  of  the  large  ma- 
jority of  hard  cases  confined  here,  the  remark  is  per- 
fectly true.  Among  the  600  convicts  who  pass  before  my 
eyes  daily  I  see  few  that  appear  to  have  known  youth, 
although  perhaps  the  majority  are  in  their  'teens.'  All 
have  the  crime-hardened,  prematurely-old  look  that  dis- 
tinguishes the  denizens  of  Five  Points  or  Rotten  Row. 
All  have  cocoanut  shaped  heads,  furtive  eyes,  and,  usu- 
ally, a  bristling  shock  of  hair,  which  is,  in  most  cases, 
dark  brown,  or  gray. 
Eo  die. 

To  my  surprise  and  gratification  I  had  a  letter  today 
from  the  South ;  and  better  still  from  my  noble-hearted 
friend  Genl.  C.  L.  He  at  least,  is  true  as  steel,  and  un- 
influenced by  the  machinations,  calumnies,  and  threats 
of  our  oppressors.  "I  see  an  occasional  article,"  says  he, 
"which  leads  us  to  hope  that  a  policy  of  clemency  ( jus- 
tice j  mon  ami)  may  be  adopted  and  that  those  who  have 
so  much  affection  for  you;  ourselves,  I  need  not  say, 
among  the  number,  may  have  the  happiness  to  welcome 
you  as  a  free  man  once  more.  I  must  think  that  this  will 
be  the  case  ere  long.  I  can  scarcely  imagine  any  circum- 
stance that  I  should  hail  with  more  heartfelt  delight." 

How  kind,  how  thoughtful,  how  comforting  this ! 

The  condition  of  things  in  our  unhappy  section  he  al- 
luded to  as  follows:  "The  fact  is  the  South  with  its  lazy 
thieving  negro  population,  supported  in  almost  every 
atrocity,  as  the  negroes  are,  by  those  in  power,  is  any- 
thing but  a  pleasant  residence.  I  try  to  hope  for  the  best 
and  that  the  future  may  be  more  bright,  but  I  do  not 
see  at  present  any  grounds  for  feeling  sanguine  in  this 
respect." 

I  have  drawn  up  a  note,  to  send  in  reply,  if  I  can 
obtain  permission,  in  which  I  say,  "I  have  to  solace  my- 
self with  all  sorts  of  small  hopes,  since  my  Great  Expec- 
tations have  turned  out  to  be  broken  reeds.  The  last  stay 
snapped  the  other  day  when  the  Supreme  Court  agreed 


302  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

to  disagree  in  the  S.  C.  K.  K.  Case.  I  trusted  that  tri- 
bunal would  set  aside  the  piece  of  partisan  sectional  legis- 
lation under  which  I  was  falsely  accused  and  unjustly 
sentenced ;  but  it  seems  that  Grant  has  the  court  well  in 
his  pocket.  As  for  pardon,  I  have  not  yet  applied  for  it, 
and  I  find  it  hard  to  bring  my  mind  to  consent  to  do  so. 
The  very  term  'pardon'  implies  guilt  and  in  asking  for 
clemency  I  place  myself  in  the  attitude  of  a  confessed 
criminal.  I  have  been  sufficiently  wronged  and  humili- 
ated without  going  down  on  my  knees  to  the  vile 
wretches  who  have  injured  me.  I  am  not  one  of  those 
who  believe  in  turning  the  other  cheek  to  be  buffeted ;  I 
should  be  slow  to  kiss  the  rod  which  had  lacerated  my 
own  back. 

"Yet  as  there  is  no  prospect  of  a  General  Jail  Deliv- 
ery of  prisoners  it  may  be  wise — certainly  is  necessary 
— for  me  to  beg  for  my  rights.  F.  intimates  that  he  in- 
tends to  do  something  between  now  and  1st  of  April, 
but  does  not  state  his  plan  of  procedure.  I  presume, 
however,  he  will  get  up  a  petition  although  I  see  not 
how  one  could  be  drawn  without  admitting  more  than 
I  am  willing  to  admit,"  etc. 

This  is  no  more  than  the  truth.  I  shall  remain  here  six 
years,  or  as  long  as  they  see  fit  to  hold  me — if  I  can  ob- 
tain justice  in  no  easier  way  than  self-abasement,  per- 
jury and  dishonor. 

"The  fate  of  Regulus  is  changed,  not  Regulus 
I  am  the  same  in  laurels  or  in  chains 
Tis  the  same  principle ;  the  same  fixed  soul, 
Unmoved  itself  though  circumstances  change." 
I  regret  to  learn  that  Genl.  Pilsbury  is  in  so  low 
health  that  there  is  little  prospect  of  his  recovery ;  a  con- 
sultation of  eminent  physicians  giving  no  hopes  of  suc- 
cessful treatment  of  his  peculiar  disorder.  I  should  feel 
his  loss  as  a  personal  affliction;  not  only  because  he  is 
some  guarantee  of  respectable  usage  while  I  remain  here 
but  also,  because  in  gratitude  for  his  invariable  kindness 
and  courtesy  I  am  very  much  his  friend.  He  has  few 
equals  as  a  Superintendent  of  Prisoners,  as  indeed  he 
may  well  be,  having  been  in  charge  of  this  Institution 
more  than  27  years ! 


The  Shotwell  Papers  303 

1873  January  18th.  By  rising  at  dawn  I  am  now 
enabled  to  get  nearly  ten  hours  for  reading  and  study. 
At  this  rate  I  may  be  making  more  mental  "headway" 
than  if  I  were  at  perfect  liberty.  My  order  of  the  day 
is  as  follows:  Rise  a  few  minutes  after  5  A.  M.,  make 
my  bed,  ablutions,  etc.  Read  couple  of  chapters  in  the 
Bible  and  a  page  or  two  of  some  other  religious  work. 
Then  my  studies.  Breakfast  at  8  o'clock,  at  my  own 
table,  which  is  supplied  with  "extra  rations."  After- 
wards I  attend  to  any  little  duties,  as  shaving,  marking 
clothes,  etc.,  etc.,  until  10,  when  I  take  hold  of  books 
again,  and  so  on  until  8  P.  M.  when  lights  must  be  ex- 
tinguished, and  all  hands  to  bed.  This  is  repeated  day 
after  day  for  weeks,  months,  years  perhaps.  'Tis  dread- 
fully monotonous,  but  try  not  to  yawn.  Indeed  I  give 
less  thought  to  "my  troubles,"  than  almost  any  prisoner 
here  I  expect;  although  it  was  not  easy  to  conquer  a 
natural  tendency  to  brood  over  them.  But  I  fortify  my- 
self with  many  aphorisms;  as,  "Sorrow  is  the  lot  of  all 
human,"  and  "Tis  better  to  laugh  than  be  sighing,"  and 

"Care  to  our  coffin  adds  a  nail,  no  doubt 

While  every  burst  of  laughter  draws  one  out." 

20th.     Sick. 

21st.     Bilious. 

22nd.     Feel  like  a  wet  dishrag  looks. 

23rd.  Crazy  men  are  getting  rather  numerous  in  this 
establishment.  We  have  three  in  the  Hospital  now ;  and 
there  are  one  or  two  in  the  cells.  One  of  my  patients 
is  an  Irishman,  guilty  of  epileptic  fits.  I  was  obliged  to 
sit  up  with  him  half  the  night;  although  I  gave  him 
heavy  doses  of  chloral.  He  is  of  opinion  that  I  am  a 
priest;  calls  me  "Your  Reverence"  in  deepest  humility 
of  tone  and  with  many  genuflections  of  body.  His  "con- 
fession" apprized  me  that  he  had  not  been  altogether 
faithful  to  Mrs.  Murphy,  but  "indeed  your  Reverence, 
she  caught  me  at  it,  so  'tis  no  matter;  that  don't  be  much 
of  a  sin  does  it,  your  reverence?"  I  absolved  him. 

Another  of  my  patients  is  precisely  on  the  other  tack ; 
for  he  fancies  himself  a  preacher.  He  sang  and  prayed 
with  such  ardor  that  the  Deputy  sent  him  up  here  to  get 


304  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

rid  of  him.  He  is  a  tall,  gaunt,  mean  looking  rascal,  who 
was  sent  here  from  Tennessee  for  robbing  the  mail. 

I  am  glad  to  put  this  on  record  as  one  instance  of  a 
Southern  scalawag  being  tried  and  convicted  for  rob- 
bing the  mail !  His  name  is  Wilcox. 

My  other  lunatic  is  a  Dutchman,  who  seems  to  be 
the  victim  of  circumstances  and  of  some  trickery  on  the 
part  of  the  Government  detectives.  He  was  at  the  time 
of  his  arrest  keeping  an  eating  shop  in  N.  Y.,  but  being 
ignorant  and  inexperienced  was  induced  to  take  some 
counterfeit  money  from  a  false  friend,  who  then  turned 
upon  him,  and  gave  him  up  to  Col.  Whitley  who,  know- 
ing that  Myers  was  likely  to  come  off  if  he  stood  a  trial 
actually  frightened  the  poor  Dutchman  into  pleading 
"guilty."  Then  he  was  sentenced  to  three  years  at  hard 
labor.  The  disappointment  affected  his  brain,  and  he 
seem  unlikely  ever  to  recover  full  reason  although  he  is 
now,  harmless,  and  decent  in  habits. 

It  might  to  some  people,  be  no  very  agreeable  situa- 
tion to  occupy  a  room  in  which  three  demented  convicts 
are,  day  and  night,  but  'tis  nothing  when  you're  used  to 
it." 

Just  now  looking  from  the  window  I  saw  a  couple  of 
well  dressed  women,  without  a  male  escort,  trotting 
around  the  court  yard  behind  a  blue-nosed  turnkey — for 
what? — to  see  the  prison!  And  the  wind  blowing  a  tor- 
nado! And  the  air  fairly  crackling  with  cold!  "Ah!  ter 
duyvel  vot  a  peoples!" 

Jan.  24th.  Deputy  kindly  fetches  me  a  letter  two 
days  in  advance  of  the  regular  Sunday  mail.  It  is  from 
Genl.  Leventhorpe,  who  thus  counsels  me. 

"I  am  clearly  of  opinion  with  your  other  friends, 
that  the  time  has  now  come  to  make  as  strong  an 
effort  as  possible  in  your  behalf.  Any  sacrifice  of 
honor  on  your  part  of  course  no  thinking  friend 
would  counsel ;  but  there  is  no  doubt  I  think  that  if 
your  release  is  granted  some  concessions  will  be  ex- 
acted (not  certainly  in  the  revelation — the  very  idea 
is  infamous,  even  if  you  had  anything  to  reveal 
which  could  implicate  others,  and  which  I  am  sure 
you  have  not)   of  yourself  personally,  and  which 


The  Shotwell  Papers  305 

I  should  decidedly  advise  you  to  make,  and  which 
may  take  the  form  of  a  personal  petition,  etc.  .  .  . 
The  thought  of  your  long  confinement,  my  dear 
Randolph,  is  so  intolerable  to  me  that  you  may  well 
distrust  my  discretion  where  there  is  a  question  of 
your  release.  Still,  reversing  positions  and  placing 
myself  under  your  circumstances,  I  should  feel 
that  there  had  been  no  sacrifice  of  honor  or  principle 
in  writing  myself  'Your  humble  petitioner,'  when 
I  had  to  do  with  people  who  had  got  hold  of  me 
contrary  to  law,  and  would  assuredly  keep  me  con- 
trary to  law  until  a  hard  sentence  was  completed, 
and  therein  according  to  their  own  good  will  and 
pleasure"  etc. 

Ah!  mon  cher  ami,  this  is  writing  as  if  you  knew  my 
wrongs,  and  felt  them  too !  How  few  of  my  acquaintance 
in  the  same  honorable  grade  of  society  would  dare  to 
express  themselves  so  freely!  Even  Govr.  Vance  in  de- 
nouncing my  persecutors  must  qualify  his  sympathy 
for  me  by  allusions  to  the  "trespass,"  "the  temptation," 
the  "crime  of  which  you  are  accused."  But  Genl.  L.  is 
not  much  of  a  politician;  and  is  a  firmer,  nobler  friend. 
He  is,  however,  somewhat  too  sanguine  as  to  the  suc- 
cess which  he  anticipates  from  Mr.  Harper's  and  Sena- 
tor Ransom's  intercession  at  Washington  in  my  behalf. 
If  the  whole  Southern  delegation  should  solicit  my  re- 
lease, it  could  effect  [nothing]  in  the  face  of  a  secret  re- 
monstrance from  Caldwell,  Sam  Phillips,  Logan,  Lusk, 
or  other  leading  Mongrels  of  North  Carolina ;  and  I  well 
know  that  the  malicious  spirit  necessary  to  induce  such 
remonstrance  burns  in  every  one  of  their  bosoms  against 
me.  Nous  verrons. 

Genl.  L.  says,  "There  was  a  time  when  I  thought 
there  could  be  no  prison  life  with  books  for  one's  com- 
panions; but  a  few  months  experience  in  "lang  syne" 
(during  the  war)  in  Fort  McHenry,  Pt.  Lookout,  and 
other  hospitals  and  places  of  refuge  for  used  up  Con- 
federates served  to  convince  me  that  the  mind  is  little 
fitted  for  study  when  the  green  fields  are  debarred  from 
us,  and  the  blue  sky  is  seen  only  between  iron  gratings." 

True,  Genl.  the  mind's  eye  is  not  to  be  hoodwinked 


306  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

concerning  one's  situation,  and  is  ever  craving  some- 
thing new  and  novel,  something  to  make  the  nerves  beat, 
and  especially  something  giving  promise  of  active  life. 
'Tis  useless  to  attempt  to  pursue  any  study  requiring 
earnest  mental  application  unless  you  can  utterly  lose 
yourself  in  the  pursuit.  Kossuth  said  he  found  perfect 
oblivion  for  his  sorrows  in  the  study  of  mathematics, 
during  the  three  years  of  his  imprisonment.  On  the  other 
hand  Bishop  Wren  could  not  even  read  while  a  prisoner 
in  the  tower  of  London,  and  is  said  to  have  walked 
around  the  Earth  during  his  confinement. 

I  both  read  and  study — but  not  to  advantage. 

Jan.  26ih.     Sunday's  disappointment,  etc.,  etc. 

Jan.  27th.     One  of  the  Rutherford  prisoners  has  had 
a  letter  telling  him  that  "Shotwell  is  pardoned."  What 
a  country  that  is  for  false  rumors ! 
Eo  die — 

Deputy  has  just  fetched  me  a  letter  from  father,  con- 
taining the  very  singular  intelligence  that  George  M. 
Arnold  of  Greensboro,  a  negro,  who  was,  I  believe,  a 
member  of  the  Legislature,1  and  reported  the  Holden 
Impeachment  trial  for  the  Washington  Chronicle,  of- 
fers to  go  to  Gerrit  Smith  (who  is  his  friend)  and  get 
his  endorsement  of  a  petition,  which  he  will  then  present 
to  the  President,  asking  my  release. 

Father  writes:  "Arnold  says  that  he  and  Smith  are 
on  intimate  and  confidential  terms  and  he  knows  he  can 
secure  the  pardon.  He  has  other  Radical  friends  at 
Washington.  He  is  aware  that  there  may  be  objections 
to  him  on  account  of  his  color  and  has  written  to  White- 
sides  and  gotten  Jas.  Gilmer,  President  of  the  Senate 
to  write  also.  My  views  are  that  Smith  . .  .  has  suggested 
it  to  Arnold,  and  would  bring  you  under  obligations  to 
the  Radical  Party  and  stop  your  mouth  by  always  be- 
ing able  to  refer  to  the  negro's  interposition  in  your  be- 
half, and  that  a  Radical  negro  too ;  although  Gilmer  says 
of  him  that  he  got  the  enmity  of  both  parties  in  the  Leg- 
islature by  not  being  willing  to  do  their  dirty  work. 
Further  he  wants  $100  to  pay  R.  R.  expenses  to  Peters- 
boro,  and  back  via  Washington  where  he  may  want  to 

1  Arnold  was  never  a  member  of  the  Legislature. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  307 

go  to  get  office.  Still  I  think  he  would  be  successful  and 
that  is  all  we  care  about.  Another  consideration  to  be 
regarded  is  that  Judge  Fowle,  Gov.  Vance,  G.  V. 
Strong,  T.  S.  Fuller,  signified  (I  understand  from  Gov. 
Bragg)  that  they  would  make  a  united  effort  for  your 
release  as  soon  as  the  opportune  moment  should  arrive; 
and  to  favor  Arnold's  movement  now  might  seem  to  set 
a  slight  estimate  on  their  past  services  and  kind  proffer 
of  aid  in  time  to  come,"  etc.,  etc. 

The  last  paragraph  is  rather  "sarkasstikull,"  I  judge. 
Not  much  do  either  of  the  persons  named,  care  about 
my  release  or  intend  to  interest  themselves  to  obtain  it. 
It  is  strange  that  father,  with  his  knowledge  of  the 
world  should  count  on  the  casual  remark,  or  even  the 
promise  of  a  lot  of  politicians ;  made,  too,  in  the  height 
of  the  public  excitement  over  the  Ku  Klux  trials.  Gov. 
Bragg  might  have  done  something  but  he  is  dead.  As 
for  Arnold,  there  is  not  much  doubt  of  his  motives;  al- 
though the  proposal  is  very  good  evidence  that  the  in- 
justice of  my  sentence  is  known  and  appreciated  even 
by  my  enemies ;  else  why  should  this  negro,  a  leader  of 
the  League,  come  forward  to  offer  as  my  advocate? 
Is  it  likely  that  he  would  do  so  if  he  believed  me  really 
the  chief  of  a  conspiracy  against  his  race — as  the  Mon- 
grels assert  of  the  Klan?  Certainly  not.  Still  I  do  not 
feel  willing  to  accept  his  services  just  at  present;  not 
that  I  have  any  objections  to  him  personally,  nor  on  ac- 
count of  his  color;  but  for  the  simple  reason  that  I  in- 
tend not  to  solicit  any  favors  from  the  political  faction 
which  has  sent  me  here,  and  nearly  ruined  my  state  by  its 
corruption,  robbery  and  oppression.  I  am  not  willing 
to  owe  to  the  men  who  placed  me  in  the  Penitentiary 
any  gratitude  for  getting  me  out. 

Nevertheless  I  know  quite  well  that  this  is  about  my 
only  chance  for  liberation. 

Jan.  29th.  Coldest  day  of  the  Season;  thermom- 
eter 4°  below  zero!  Had  a  pleasant  chat  with  the  Dep- 
uty, who  can  be,  when  he  wishes,  very  agreeable  and 
courteous.  He  is  certainly  a  most  excellent  officer  for  an 
institution  of  this  kind :  and  this  ought  to  be  a  high  com- 


308  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

pliment  to  him  coming  as  it  does  from  a  prisoner  who 
has  had  few  occasions  to  ask  favors  of  him. 

Today  I  have  been  much  provoked  by  Wilcox,  the 
pretended  religious  lunatic.  I  am  now  satisfied  that  he 
is  a  vile  cheat,  and  no  more  insane  than  any  other  small 
witted,  vindictive,  and  irritable  villain.  His  object  is  to 
make  the  officers  think  him  demented,  and  therefore  be 
willing  to  recommend  him  for  pardon.  He  told  a  man 
in  the  room  that  his  father  and  his  lawyer  advised  him 
what  to  do.  So  he  began  singing  and  praying  in  a  sten- 
torian voice  to  the  great  amusement  of  some  of  the  men, 
but  to  the  disturbance  of  others;  and  when  ordered  to 
be  quiet,  he  announced  himself  ready  to  give  up  life, 
suffer  persecution,  bear  chains  and  dungeons,  etc., 
rather  than  give  up  Jesus.  Sent  to  the  dungeon,  he  in- 
formed the  officers  that  he  would  spend  his  time  praying 
for  them.  Such  a  case  was  hard  to  manage  and  the  sur- 
geon pronounced  him  "cracked."  His  friends  then  got 
the  authorities  at  Washington  to  inquire  of  Capt.  P.  as 
to  his  condition,  etc.,  to  which  the  latter  replied  that  he 
was  insane,  and  recommended  pardon.  Consequently  it 
is  likely  he  will  get  out  before  long.  He  has  numerous 
scalawag  friends  at  work  for  him  outside.  I  make  this 
note  in  my  journal,  not  because  it  is  worthy  of  note,  but 
merely  as  a  specimen  of  the  petty  matters  which  occupy 
our  time  and  thoughts  in  this  mental  treadmill.  Trivial- 
ities, of  which  we  should  be  ashamed  elsewhere,  here 
give  a  coloring  to  whole  days  and  weeks.  It  is  no  doubt 
silly,  to  allow  such  trifles  to  fret  us,  but  it  is  not  uncom- 
mon for  them  to  do  so.  Tonight  I  am  sitting  up  with 
a  sick  darkey.  He  is  destined  for  a  colored  climate,  I 
think.  Pleasant  employment  this  for  a  Southern  gentle- 
man. 

January  31st.  The  "Annual  Dorsey  Dinner"  failed 
to  come  off  (or  on)  today;  as  the  benevolent  donor  is 
"down  among  the  dead  men."  The  prisoners  are  much 
disappointed;  the  31st  of  January,  like  the  4th  of  July 
and  Thanksgiving  day,  being  in  favor  on  account  of  its 
big  dinner. 

February  2nd.  Usual  Sunday  provocation.  Let  me 
never  forget  how  I  am  neglected  here!  Genl.  Pilsbury 


The  Shotwell  Papers  309 

called  me  down  and  gave  me  his  private  accounts  to  put 
in  order ;  as  he  does  not  wish  his  family  or  the  officers  to 
know  the  exact  amount  of  his  wealth.  He  is  much 
wealthier  than  I  supposed.  When  I  was  leaving  the 
room  Mrs.  P.  handed  me  a  package  of  cakes  to  which 
the  Genl.  added  an  apple,  thereby  expressing  their  kind- 
ness, although  I  could  not  but  feel  a  little  mortified  by 
the  gift,  which  was  rather  too  much  like  giving  cold 
victuals  at  the  back  door,  or  a  glass  of  wine  to  the  serv- 
ant, who  brings  a  message.  This,  however,  I'm  sure 
never  entered  their  minds. 

Feb.  4th.  Smith,  darkey,  died  4%  P-  M.,  after  a 
long  struggle  with  his  enemy.  Geo.  S.  Wright  of  York, 
one  of  the  Ku  Klux  was  pardoned  yesterday.  The  Govt 
takes  good  care  that  those  only,  who  are  too  ignorant 
and  insignificant  to  make  their  wrongs  known  to  the 
public  generally,  shall  get  out.  Thus  even  mercy  is  made 
subservient  to  base  political  purposes. 

Feb.  6th.  Y.  D.  Young  of  Youngs ville,  Tallapoosa 
Co.  Ala.  was  brought  up  to  the  hospital  this  day,  sick 
of  Jaundice.  He  is  a  grey  headed  old  man  of  55  or  more 
and  is  sentenced  to  10  (!)  years  at  hard  labor  for  being 
a  Ku  Klux !  He  was  not  a  member  of  the  order,  he  says, 
but  had  accompanied  a  party  of  men  who  went  to  the 
house  of  a  rogue  and  told  him  they  would  give  him  the 
choice  of  returning  some  leather  he  had  stolen  or  of 
leaving  the  country.  The  fellow  gave  up  the  leather, 
and  no  more  was  thought  of  the  matter  until  he  ap- 
peared before  the  notorious  "Dick  Busteed,"  and 
charged  them  all  with  Ku  Kluxing.  Busteed  wishing  to 
get  a  share  of  the  infamy,  acquired  by  Judge  Bond,  soon 
got  together  a  pliable  jury,  and  sent  these  poor  men 
away  to  this  Penitentiary.  While  at  the  same  time  the 
Northern  papers  were  stuffed  with  dispatches  announc- 
ing the  discovery  of  more  "bloody  Ku  Klux"  in  Ala- 
bama! Well  may  a  Southern  paper  cry,  "How  long,  oh 
Lord — how  long!" 

By  the  way,  there  is  something  appropriate  for  us  in 


310  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  well  known  Prayer  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  writ- 
ten in  prison,  which  I  give  and  translate  below. 

O  Domine  Deus,  speravi  in  te 
O  care  mi  Jesu,  nunc  libera  me 
In  dura  catena,  in  misera  poena, 

Desidero  te 
Languendo,  gemendo,  et  genuflectendo, 
Adoro,  imploro,  ut  liberes  me! 

O  Lord  God  Almighty,  my  hope  is  in  Thee 

0  dearest  Lord  Jesus  now  liberate  me 
In  durance  repining,  in  sorrow  declining 

I  long  after  Thee; 
With  sighs  never  ending  and  knee  ever  bending 

1  worship,  and  pray  Thee  to  liberate  me ! 

February  9th,  1873.  A  few  days  ago  I  wrote  a  let- 
ter for  Brown,  one  of  the  S.  C.  K.  K.,  to  Hon  Gerrit 
Smith,  asking  him  to  "use  his  influence' '  with  Grant  in 
favor  of  the  humble  petitioner.  Brown  sent  it,  and  to- 
day received  a  reply,  which  as  it  concerns  me  to  some 
extent,  I  here  copy. 

Peterboro.  Feb.  5th,  1873.— Saml.  G.  Brown,  Esq. 
Dear  Sir: 

I  have  your  letter,  a  very  very  proper  letter.  It 
is  sad  that  the  man  capable  of  writing  it  should  be 
in  a  Penitentiary.  I  lose  no  time  in  forwarding  your 
letter  to  the  President  and  with  it  a  letter  from 
myself  in  which  I  say,  "If  you  could  find  it  in  your 
heart  to  pardon  the  poor  old  man,  I  should  be 
glad."  The  President  may  not  pardon  you  imme- 
diately, but  I  trust  he  will  pardon  you  before  long. 
I  hope  Mr.  Shotwell  is  in  good  health.  He  is  a 
proud  man.  I  wish  he  would  humble  himself  so  far 
as  to  apply  to  the  President  for  a  pardon  for  him- 
self. And  I  wish  he  would  in  his  application  confess 
and  lament  his  wrong  doing.  Never  was  there  any- 
thing worse  than  this  Ku  Kluxism  and  all  who  were 
implicated  in  it  ought  to  be  punished.  Please  make 
my  regards  to  Mr.  Shotwell.  Your  friend,  Gerrit 
Smith." 


The  Shotwell  Papers  311 

This  is  what  I  call  an  odd  letter;  like  one  of  those  hard 
shell  Baptist  sermons  where  several  birds  are  killed  by 
the  same  stone.  His  allusions  to  me  which  occupy  half 
the  letter  are  the  more  singular,  since  he  could  not  have 
been  aware  that  B.  and  I  were  in  the  same  room,  or 
that  we  were  even  acquainted,  still,  they  show  that  the 
old  Abolitionist  is  interested  in  my  case;  and  that  I 
might  easily  enlist  his  services  in  my  behalf.  But  I  am 
not  the  man  to  take  such  advice  as  he  gives.  To  purchase 
freedom  at  the  expense  of  my  honor  would  rob  it  of  half 
— nay  all — its  charms ;  because  in  confessing  I  must  ac- 
knowledge myself  unfit  or  rather  undeserving  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  decent  Society;  and  by  confessing  I  should 
make  myself  unfit  even  if  I  had  been  clear  before,  which, 
of  course,  would  be  the  case.  As  for  lamenting  my  wrong 
doing,  he  is  welcome  to  his  opinion  about  that.  My  con- 
science is  easy,  and  there  I  rest. 
Eo  die. 

Genl.  Leventhorpe  sends  me  the  following  letter  he 
had  from  Hon.  J.  C.  Harper. 

House  of  Representatives,  Washington,  Jan.  31st, 

1873. 

Dear  General 

Your  esteemed  favor  of  the  21st  came  to  hand  in 
due  time  &  I  write  to  say  that  on  the  same  day  I 
had  occasion  to  go  to  the  office  of  the  Attorney 
Genl.  in  relation  to  the  release  of  a  young  man  from 
Buncombe  County  and  while  there  took  the  occa- 
sion to  inquire  as  to  the  steps  necessary  to  take  to 
procure  the  release  of  Mr.  Shotwell.  I  was  informed 
that  a  transcript  of  proceedings  in  the  court  is  al- 
ready on  file  in  the  Att'y  Gen  Office  and  it  will  not 
be  necessary  to  procure  a  copy  in  his  case  as  usual. 
I  afterwards  saw  Genl.  Ransom  and  found  him 
quite  confident  of  success,  in  securing  the  pardon 
through  the  kind  offices  of  leading  Republicans  in 
the  Senate  whose  aid  he  is  now  trying  to  secure.  If 
Mr.  Shotwell  be  released  he  should  be  careful  as 
to  his  deportment  &  conduct  for  some  time  as  the 
fate  of  many  others  might  be  affected  by  any  im- 
proper conduct  on  his  part.  I  have  just  consulted 


312  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Mr.  Wallace  of  S.  C.  on  the  subject  and  find  he 
is  willing  to  endorse  the  application  of  any  for  re- 
lease provided  they  have  not  been  guilty  of  murder. 
Mr.  W.  says  he  thinks  most  of  the  prisoners  will 
soon  be  released  if  those  recently  pardoned  mani- 
fest a  proper  spirit  at  home.  It  appears  to  be  feared 
that  they  will  seek  revenge,  etc.  We  think  public 
sentiment  is  changing  in  our  favor  and  if  our  peo- 
ple at  home  will  be  prudent  for  awhile,  we  may  ex- 
pect justice  to  resume  the  reins  of  government 
Very  respectfully  your 

Most  Obt.  Svt. 

J.  C.  Harper. 

The  Genl.  adds— 

"I  previously  heard  from  Judge  Merrimon  who 

on  my  suggestion  applied  to  Mr.  Phillips I  think 

you  will  agree  with  me  that  the  sky  brightens.  If 
you  are  released  as  I  believe  you  will  be,  for  the 
sake  of  others  I  should  advise  the  avoidance  of 
newspaper  notoriety.  Just  go  quietly  home.  I  write 
en  bon  ami  and  I'm  sure  you  know  it;  therefore 
will  pardon  the  counsel  of  your  old  friend.  Mrs.  L. 
sends  kind  regards,  in  which  all  here  join.  We  are 
in  a  whirl  of  good  pleasure  at  the  hope  of  your  re- 
lease. Ever  your  sincere  friend.  C.  L. 

Nothing  could  be  more  kind  and  thoughtful  than 
this ;  yet  it  shows  me  that  my  forebodings  are  true ;  my 
friends  will  expect  me  to  pocket  the  insults  I  have  re- 
ceived, to  be  silent  about  the  wrongs  inflicted  on  me, 
and  to  continue  under  constraint  after  I  leave  these 
walls,  burying  myself  in  obscurity  and  scarcely  ventur- 
ing to  assert  my  innocence,  in  private  circles.  This  I 
feel  would  be  unjust  to  my  own  name  and  character, 
to  say  nothing  of  my  proper  resentment  for  the  foul  in- 
juries and  humiliations  that  have  been  heaped  upon  me. 
As  for  newspaper  notoriety,  I  desire  to  avoid  that,  ex- 
cept such  as  I  may  have  from  the  publication  of  my  own 
newspaper,  which  I  expect  to  make  the  business  of  my 
life.  But  certainly  I  ought  not  to  be  hampered  in  every 
reasonable  effort  to  vindicate  my  name,  and  show  the 
outrages  which  under  the  forms  of  law  have  been  perpe- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  313 

trated  upon  our  citizens.  And,  indeed,  in  so  doing  I 
ought  to  have  the  countenance  of  every  freeman  in  the 
land;  for  when  usurpation  and  tyranny  and  judicial 
pollution  are  allowed  to  pass  unnoticed,  uncensured,  un- 
punished, the  last  barrier  against  despotism  is  broken. 
"Let  me  exhort  you,"  says  Junius,  "never  to  suffer  an 
invasion  of  your  political  constitution,  however  minute 
the  instance  may  appear,  to  pass  by  without  a  deter- 
mined, persevering  resistance.  One  precedent  creates  an- 
other. They  soon  accumulate  and  constitute  law.  What 
yesterday  was  fact,  today  is  doctrine.  Examples  are  sup- 
posed to  justify  the  most  dangerous  measures;  and 
where  they  do  not  suit  exactly,  the  defect  is  supplied  by 
analogy.  Be  assured  that  the  laws  which  protect  us  in 
our  civil  rights  grow  out  of  the  constitution  and  that 
they  must  fall  or  flourish  by  it." 

Perhaps  the  statements  of  a  single  humble  individual 
could  effect  but  little  towards  the  awakening  of  public 
opinion  against  the  violence,  lawlessness  and  corruption 
of  the  Government;  but  it  might  indirectly  have  some 
influence  on  the  times.  At  any  rate  I  hold  it  to  be  the 
duty  of  every  citizen  to  denounce  oppression  so  far  as 
in  his  power  lies.  For  unless  the  people  come  to  their 
senses,  the  days  of  the  Republic  are  few,  or  there  is 
no  truth  in  the  teachings  of  history. 

To  be  sure  I  shall,  if  released,  endeavor  to  avoid 
prejudicing  the  cases  of  those  whom  I  may  leave  in 
prison ;  and  on  the  contrary  I  expect  to  go  to  Washing- 
ton to  intercede  for  several  poor  fellows  who  have  no 
one  to  speak  a  good  word  in  their  behalf.  But  afterwards 
I  hope  to  devote  my  life  to  the  object  of  clearing  up  this 
Ku  Klux  Persecution  and  the  restoration  of  genuine 
freedom  in  the  South. 

However  'tis  hardly  worth  while  to  speculate  about 
getting  out  this  year. 

February  10th.  Father  informs  me  that  Mr.  Harper 
has  offered  to  send  McCleary  to  West  Point ;  but  that 
he  shall  wait  until  he  obtains  a  catalogue,  etc.,  which 
means  that  he  will  not  let  him  go!  What  infatuation! 
Nothing,  no  pursuit  nor  profession  in  the  U.  S.  is  so 
honorable  and  suitable  for  a  young  man  of  good  birth, 


314  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

but  small  fortune,  and  smaller  abilities,  than  a  lieuten- 
ancy in  the  Regular  Army.  And  this  is  now  offered  to 
McCleary;  offered  and  virtually  rejected!  It  is  too  bad! 
The  boy  is  growing  up  in  ignorance,  and  with  tastes  and 
manners  unfitting  him  for  intelligent  society;  so  much 
so  indeed,  that  I  saw  no  way  by  which  he  could  be  ex- 
tricated until  this  offer.  But  "Mammey's"  apron  strings 
are  too  strong.  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  business, 
now  and  hereafter,  although  I  have  just  written  a  note 
to  father  begging  him  to  do  something  at  once.  Respect- 
ing my  own  situation,  he  says,  "Your  letter  assures  me 
we  see  alike  in  matters  touching  your  release.  Hon.. 
A.  H.  Stephens,  Judge  Fowle,  Messrs  Strong  and 
Fuller,  with  Gov.  Vance  and  Gov.  Graham  are  the  per- 
sons who  will  be  employed  in  your  behalf,  not  forgetting 
Genls.  Ransom  and  Hunton  and  Hon.  Mr.  Harper. 
I  shall  plan  it  so  as  to  have  them  move  simultaneously 
with  myself  unless  they  on  consultation  advise  other- 
wise," etc.,  etc. 

I  confess  I  shall  be  glad  to  learn  when  this  skilful  plan 
shall  be  sufficiently  matured  for  the  "Grand  Movement" 
to  begin.  There  is  something  ludicrous  in  the  very  idea  of 
the  thing;  as  if  these  men  would  be  at  any  trouble  to 
consult  how  to  get  me  out  of  prison!  Why  not  one  of 
them  would  dare  to  express  even  a  common  interest  in 
me  lest  he  should  be  accused  of  friendly  relations  with 
the  bloody  Ku  Klux.  I  know  them  better  than  father; 
and  I  regret  to  know  that  he  is  destined  to  disappoint- 
ment in  his  sanguine  expectation  of  active  aid  from 
them.  He  may  get  an  answer  to  his  letters,  and  a  prom- 
ise to  do  something  "When  the  proper  time  comes"; 
but  that  time  unfortunately  will  not  be  due  until  the  22 
of  September  1876!  Meanwhile  I  should  prefer  to  get 
my  liberty. 

Eo  die — Genl.  P.  Sent  for  me  to  come  to  his  drawing 
room  and  gave  me  his  private  accounts  to  revise,  as 
there  has  been  a  rise  in  stocks.  He  was  very  kind  and 
affable;  and  spoke  flatteringly  of  father's  photograph, 
which  I  rec'd  in  my  last  letter. 

It  is  amusing  to  witness  the  change  in  deportment  to- 
wards me  which  he  manifests  in  public  after  a  private 


The  Shotwell  Papers  315 

interview.  In  his  parlor  he  receives  me  courteously,  giv- 
ing me  his  hand,  and  having  me  sit  with  him  on  the  sofa, 
etc.,  etc. ;  but  when  about  to  return  to  my  den,  he  says, 
"Watchman,  pass  this  man  in!"  as  if  I  were  an  ordinary 
convict.  The  former  courtesy  is  no  more  than  any  gen- 
tleman would  do;  but  the  latter  shows  how  strict  a  dis- 
ciplinarian he  is.  Fortunately  I  am  not  obliged  to  feel 
honored  in  the  one  instance,  nor  dishonored  in  the  other ; 
although,  naturally,  I  am  gratified  to  have  the  friend- 
ship of  a  man  of  his  character,  especially  as  I  am  aware 
he  must  have  been  highly  prejudiced  against  me  at  the 
start. 

Apropos  of  matters  of  this  sort  I  must  mention  some- 
thing that  has  more  than  once  given  me  a  good  deal  of 
heart  burn  in  the  habits  of  another  branch  of  the  "pow- 
ers that  be." 

Deputy  not  unfrequently  comes  in  and  takes  up  any 
letter  I  am  writing  or  any  book  I  am  reading  and  always 
my  journal  and  coolly  reads  it  without  the  least  respect 
to  my  feelings.  Of  course  the  officers  are  permitted  to 
examine  everything  belonging  to  a  prisoner,  and  it  is 
to  be  expected  that  they  will  so  do;  but  Capt.  Pilsbury 
and  the  superintendent  are  more  careful  not  to  wound 
needlessly  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman.  He  even 
passes  my  letters  unopened.  [Passage  marked  out] 
journal  is  being  "viewed  with  a  critic's  eye."  I  mention 
this,  however,  more  as  a  specimen  of  the  petty  annoy- 
ances that  befall  a  penitentiary  prisoner  than  for  any 
other  reason.  I  presume  there  is  no  intention  to  humiliate 
me. 

Feb.  12th.  The  influx  of  detem's  is  greater  than 
ever  before.  Nineteen  new  arrivals  today,  coming  from 
all  parts  of  the  country.  The  establishment  is  now  nearly 
full  and  many  of  the  lower  cells  have  had  double  bunks 
fitted  in  them,  giving  me  good  reason  to  rejoice  that  I 
vacated  mine  before  I  was  obliged  to  take  a  companion. 
I  can  hardly  conceive  of  a  more  disagreeable  situation 
than  being  shut  up  in  a  stone  "pigeon-hole,"  in  company 
with  a  stranger,  perhaps  from  Five  Points,  whose  tem- 
perament, tastes,  manners,  and  position  could  not  have 
anything  in  common  with  mine.  Such  a  position  would 


316  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

of  itself  double  the  hardships  of  confinement.  And  even 
with  a  warm  personal  friend  it  would  be  difficult  to  get 
on  without  annoyance,  in  quarters  so  constrained. 

Feb.  15th,  1873.  Yesterday  afternoon  the  order  for 
release  or  pardon  of  the  four  Sherer  Bros,  reached  here 
and  today  they  go  home.  They  are  poor  ignorant  youths 
and  so  far  as  I  can  learn  were  unjustly  sentenced;  al- 
though that  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  since  they  were 
tried  before  a  jury  composed  of  eleven  negroes  and  one 
white  man  of  the  most  worthless  character.  They  were 
sent  here  for  18  months,  leaving  an  aged  father  and 
mother  without  means  of  subsistence.  The  mother  has 
died  since  they  came  here  I  am  told. 

Their  pardon  is  the  result  of  their  obsequiousness  to 
Whitley.  Yet  I  am  glad  they  are  at  liberty.  By  return- 
ing home  they  will  keep  alive  the  public  interest  in  oth- 
ers confined  here. 

Another  of  the  Ku  Klux  was  "released"  this  morn- 
ing; but  by  an  higher  power  than  U.  S.  Grant.  J.  D. 
Young  died  at  3%  A.  M.  Yesterday  he  appeared  to  be 
improving,  and  at  nightfall  he  talked  quite  freely  about 
his  home  affairs,  having  just  rec'd  a  letter  from  his 
wife  and  little  daughter,  giving  him  the  most  affection- 
ate assurances  of  their  love  and  sympathy.  But  about  3 
o'clock  this  morning  the  man  who  was  watching  with  the 
sick,  came  to  tell  me  that  Young  desired  to  speak  to  me. 
I  hastened  down;  but  could  not  understand  his  last 
words.  Presently  with  a  long  sigh  he  yielded  life  and  was 
at  rest.  We  stretched  him  on  a  sheet  on  the  floor ;  and  this 
morning  a  rough  box  was  brought  up,  the  corpse  placed 
in  it,  and  four  stout  convicts,  taking  hold  of  it,  carried 
him  away  to  a  felon's  grave. 

Who  can  picture  the  outrage  that  has  been  committed 
on  this  poor  man!  For  days  he  has  foreseen  death, 
yet  he  never  failed  to  declare  to  me  that  he  was  wrong- 
fully sentenced.  I  know  not  the  particulars  of  his  case 
farther  than  I  have  given  them  on  a  previous  page,  but 
it  is  safe  to  conclude  that  his  degree  of  guilt  had  nothing 
to  do  with  his  sentence.  Dick  Busteed  and  a  packed 
jury  would  be  capable  of  passing  sentence  on  an  angel 
if  they  could  make  any  money  and  political  capital  out 


The  Shotwell  Papers  317 

of  the  affair.  This  man  (Young)  I  consider  has  been 
judicially  murdered;  because  the  sending  of  him  in  mid 
winter  from  Southern  Alabama  to  Northern  New  York 
is  the  direct  cause  of  his  death.  Alas!  How  sudden, 
how  dreadful  the  shock  to  his  loving  family,  who  were 
in  high  hopes  of  seeing  him  home  in  a  few  days. 

Today  I  have  been  sick  and  uncomfortable  as  can  be 
I  think; — doubtless  the  effect  of  cold,  loss  of  sleep,  and 
billiousness.  "'Tis  an  hard  place"  (as  Genl.  P.  says) 
to  be  sick  in. 

February  16th.  Tonight  I  am  watching  with  old 
man  Stampers,  who  after  a  sharp  tussle  with  Death, 
seems  to  have  gotten  a  temporary  reprieve.  It  is  hard 
to  see  a  grey  haired  man  dying  in  a  Penitentiary  afar 
from  his  friends  and  family;  but  in  his  case,  'tis  only 
just  since  by  his  own  admission  he  has  been  counterfeit- 
ing for  16  years  or  so,  among  the  mountains  of  Ashe 
county,  N.  C. 

"Half  past  ten  o'clock!  Half  past  ten,  and  all's 
well!"  In  the  room  with  me  are  more  than  a  dozen 
stout  sleepers,  who  are  performing  such  a  nasal  concert 
"as  never  vos."  What  strange  ideas  must  be  coursing 
through  their  variegated  noddles  as  they  wander  in 
dreamland.  Were  I  asleep,  I  imagine  my  thoughts 
would  be  "way  down  South  in  Dixie."  Nobody  is  a 
prisoner  while  asleep.     Curious! 

"In  slumber,  I  prithee,  how  is  it 
That  souls  are  off  taking  the  air 
And  paying  each  other  a  visit 
While  bodies  are — Heaven  knows  where?" 
February  17th.     Winter  and  Spring  are  quarreling 
over  the  condition  of  the  country,  or  rather  the  posses- 
sion of  it.     Last  night  Winter  spread  his  mantle  of 
snow,  six  inches  deep ;  but  today  Spring  is  at  work  melt- 
ing it  away,  unlocking  the  frozen  streams,  inviting  a- 
broad  the  feathered  songsters,  and  preparing  to  scatter 
her  flowers  and  fragrance.     She  is  too  fast  I  fear;  for 
I  recollect  with  horror  the  exploits  of  the  Icy  Monarch 
last  March,  when  he  sent  the  mercury  wheezing  down 
to  22  degrees  below  zero!     Still  we  have  our  windows 
up,  and  are  glad  to  get  a  breath  of  unfrozen  air. 


318  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

This  morning  I  sent  a  note  to  the  family  of  old  man 
Young,  giving  particulars  of  his  last  moments,  thinking 
they  would  be  somewhat  comforted  by  knowing  he  had 
proper  attention,  and  by  a  Southern  man,  in  his  dying 
hour. 

I  believe  I  have  mentioned  that  I  am  teaching  old 
man  Scruggs  to  read  and  write.  'Tis  slow  work,  but 
he  is  now  able  to  decypher  his  own  home  letters  by  con- 
ning them  over  studiously.  So  he  will  go  back,  if  he 
still  lives,  wiser  than  he  came ;  although  that  can  be  but 
a  small  recompense  for  his  imprisonment. 

This  morning  Hays  Mitchell,  Stewart,  and  Lowry, 
three  K.  K's  from  York  Dist.,  were  released  on  pardon 
papers.  They  are  ignorant  and  low  bred  men;  and 
doubtless  their  being  pardoned  is  due  to  that  fact;  al- 
though it  is  a  mistake  to  say  that  men  of  that  class  are 
entitled  to  particular  consideration  because  they  are 
ignorant,  and  liable  to  be  misled  by  more  intelligent 
persons.  The  truth  is  that  all  the  "outrages"  for  which 
there  is  any  foundation  were  committed  by  just  such 
fellows  in  defiance  of  warnings,  commands,  and  en- 
treaties of  influential  members  of  the  community.  I 
know  in  my  own  case  that  two  or  three  of  the  principal 
witnesses  of  Government  were  the  most  active  and  un- 
controllable of  raiders.  These  men  ( of  course  I  am  not 
now  referring  to  the  three  mentioned  above  who  are  per- 
sonally strangers  to  me)  having  gotten  into  the  Klan, 
too  often  assumed  disguises  and  harassed  persons 
against  whom  they  had  a  private  enmity.  Their  con- 
duct annoyed  us  all,  and  brought  odium  on  the  Klan. 
Therefore  when  the  Government  assumes  that  these  poor 
and  illiterate  fellows  are  deserving  of  clemency  because 
they  are  dupes  of  the  designing  etc.,  it  does  violence  to 
the  truth  as  usual.  Still,  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that 
Mitchell  and  the  others  are  free  and  I  would  that  all 
were. 

February  22nd.  Heavy  fall  of  snow.  Seeing  the 
long  lines  of  convicts  coming  from  the  Workshops 
through  the  fleecy  showers,  called  to  mind  the  familiar 
scene  of  a  regiment  under  march  in  a  snow  storm,  or  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  319 

more  familiar  picture  of  "Washington  Crossing  the  Del- 


aware." 


And  by  the  way,  this  is  Washington's  Birthday — a 
day  that  would  be  more  honored  if  the  true  spirit  of 
liberty  dwelt  in  the  land.  I  am  not  among  those  who 
eulogise  Washington  as  the  "Father"  or  even  the  "De- 
liverer" of  his  country  although  no  one  can  read  Mr. 
Jefries  "life"  of  him  without  feeling  satisfied  that  he 
was  the  principal  figure  of  his  times  in  this  country. 
Be  that  as  it  may  it  is  impossible  not  to  admire  his  high 
toned  character  and  disinterested  patriotism;  and  these 
qualities  are  growing  so  rare  that  we  can  well  afford  to 
set  apart  one  day  in  the  year  to  commemorate  so  illus- 
trious an  example. 

February  23rd.  A  furious  wind  last  night  piled  the 
snow  of  yesterday  into  immense  hillocks  and  longitudi- 
nal drifts  that  almost  change  the  features  of  the  land- 
scape. The  view  from  my  window  takes  in  a  quarter 
of  the  arc  of  the  horizon,  and  is  rather  fine  for  a  prison 
out-look; — embracing  an  undulating  tract  of  country, 
dotted  with  suburban  cottages,  and  showing  here  and 
there  a  grove,  a  red  barn,  a  rolling  meadow,  or  the  un- 
broken line  of  a  railroad ;  while  afar  in  the  distance  arises 
the  blue  range  of  the  Catskills,  as  a  background. 

It  may  be  imagined  how  I  enjoy  this  prospect,  when  I 
state  that  all  last  year  when  I  was  in  the  cell  my  only 
view  was  a  whitewashed  wall,  at  about  twelve  feet  from 
my  nose. 

Besides  the  very  circumstance  that  one  looks  from 
behind  the  bars  is  apt  to  give  a  fictitious  beauty  to  the 
tamest  scenery.  I  recollect  that  when  in  Fort  Delaware 
we  could  by  looking  through  an  air  hole,  see  certain 
grassy  meadows  and  woodlands  over  in  Delaware,  and 
all  felt  an  indescribable  longing  to  be  out  tumbling  "in 
clover,"  like  the  renowned  Willyum  Weaver,  "who  when 
he  died,  he  died  all  over." 

Razor.  This  morning  Deputy  asked  why  I  was  not 
shaved.  I  told  him  that  I  was  expecting  friends  and 
supposed  it  would  do  to  shave  on  Sunday  in  time  for 
church.  He  said  with  a  frown  "No  it  wont  do  at  all. 
The  barbers  ought  not  to  have  let  you  have  the  razor." 


320  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

etc.  I  can  hardly  say  how  much  I  was  surprised  and 
humiliated  by  this  rude  and  undeserved  rebuke.  The 
words  give  no  idea  of  the  insolence  of  his  look  and  tone. 
I  did  not  get  over  it  all  day. 

Of  course  I  know  that  rigid  and  impartial  discipline 
is  indispensable  in  a  Penitentiary  and  I  am  satisfied  that 
the  system  enforced  here  is  as  lenient  as  the  design  of 
the  Institution  will  admit.  But  for  all  that  it  is  hard 
to  forget  that  I  am  a  gentleman,  the  son  of  a  gentleman, 
and  not  rightfully  held  here;  and  that  I  have  been  uni- 
formly careful  to  obey  the  rules.  It  may  seem  strange 
that  after  all  I  have  undergone,  I  should  retain  the 
least  sensibility  on  such  subjects.  I  have  received  ill 
treatment  and  insult  sufficient  to  make  me  as  thick 
skinned  as  an  rhinoceros:  and  some  time  ago,  when  I 
had  no  prospect  of  getting  out,  I  was  almost  invulner- 
able to  petty  mortifications  and  rebuffs.  But  now  they 
wound  me  to  the  quick.  Philosophy  and  Patience  may 
carry  a  man  through  many  grievous  troubles;  but  they 
are  not  much  consolation  during  a  spasm  of  toothache, 
or  when  set  upon  by  Muschetoo. 

February  24th.  Excessively  cold.  Tumbler  of  wa- 
ter was  frozen  solid  at  side  of  my  bed  during  night  al- 
though fires  were  in  both  stoves,  and  13  men  sleeping 
in  the  room.  What  must  have  been  the  degree  of  cold 
outside. 

Capt.  P.  sent  for  me  this  morning  to  inquire  about 
a  pardon  he  had  just  received,  issued  to  Barton  Bigger- 
staff  of  Rutherford  County,  N.  C.  Here  is  another 
specimen  of  red  tape  bungling!  Barton  Biggerstaff 
has  been  in  Butherford  jail  for  15  months  or  more;  and 
if  there  is  any  truth  in  evidence,  ought  never  to  have 
been  sentenced  at  all.  I  recollect  his  case  perfectly  well, 
because  there  was  an  amusing  circumstance  connected 
with  it.  He  was  charged  with  having  participated  in 
the  whipping  of  that  detestable  old  vagabond  "Pukey" 
Biggerstaff,  his  uncle,  I  believe.  Barton  offered  an 
alibi  and  proved  it  by  the  oath  of  his  sweetheart  and 
that  of  her  parents.  The  amiable  girl,  who  very  likely 
had  never  been  more  than  10  miles  from  home  in  her 
life,  went  to  Raleigh,  300  miles,  and  on  the  witness  stand 


The  Shotwell  Papers  321 

testified  that  she  and  her  lover  were  "sitting  up"  on  the 
night  of  the  "raid"  and  were  together  when  they  heard 
pistol  shots  and  outcry  at  "Pukey's"  house.  The  coun- 
sel for  the  prosecution,  seeing  that  she  was  a  timid, 
country  girl,  tried  to  embarrass  her  by  insinuations  that 
it  was  strange  she  and  her  beau  should  be  up  at  so  late 
an  hour,  but  perhaps  they  might  not  have  been  ceup" 
"We  were  sitting  by  the  fire — and — and — courtin',"  said 
she  modestly  and  so  straight-forward  was  her  testimony 
that  no  unprejudiced  man  in  the  room  doubted  that  she 
told  the  truth  and  that  Barton  Biggerstaff  was  not  on 
the  "Raid,"  especially  as  the  evidence  of  the  parents 
strictly  corroborated  hers.  But  "proof  strong  as  Holy 
Writ"  could  avail  nothing  against  the  bent  purpose  of 
Jeffreys  Bond  and  his  packed  jury.  Barton  was  sen- 
tenced to  two  years  confinement  (if  I  recollect  aright) 
and  $100  fine! 

And  now  after  holding  him  almost  his  full  term,  and 
having  accomplished  their  political  ends,  the  vile  wretch- 
es agree  to  set  him  at  liberty.  Jim  Justice  and  "old 
Pukey"  Biggerstaff,  themselves  recommended  the  par- 
don {justice!  I  say)  the  latter  by  signing  his  X  mark,  for 
he  is  too  ignorant  to  sign  his  own  name !  I  presume  young 
B.  has  humbled  himself  and  begged  pardon  of  the  Mon- 
grels; for  only  those  who  will  abase  themselves  in  this 
manner  have  yet  been  released.  But  the  Administra- 
tion, or  its  agents,  after  signing  the  pardon,  take  good 
care  that  it  shall  not  be  of  much  benefit  to  him  by  send- 
ing it  off  to  Albany,  which  will  delay  its  arrival  at  its 
destination,  three  weeks  or  a  month. 

Chaplain  R.  compliments  me  on  the  improvement 
in  order  etc.,  in  the  Hospital,  especially  with  respect 
to  the  suppression  of  profanity,  vulgarity,  and  obscenity 
among  the  convalescents.  I  have  stopped  everything  of 
the  kind,  and  while  treating  all  the  inmates,  sick  or  well, 
with  gentleness  and  courtesy,  never  permit  the  slightest 
infringement  of  the  rules,  or  any  noise,  or  rowdyism.  I 
have  not  much  difficulty  in  accomplishing  this,  as  I  have 
never  allowed  any  of  the  convicts  to  become  familiar 
with  me,  although  all  appear  very  friendly. 


322  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Today  I  have  been  busy  writing  up  some  books — In- 
ventory of  the  Prison  Furniture — for  Capt.  P.  No 
one,  who  has  no  experience  in  supplying  a  thousand 
men  with  daily  rations,  etc.,  would  imagine  the  trouble 
and  outlay  of  an  Institution  of  this  kind.  For  instance, 
more  than  500  lbs.  of  fish  and  a  barrel  or  two  of  pota- 
toes, and  200  loaves  of  bread,  all  go  into  the  pans  for 
a  single  Saturday's  dinner.  About  100  gallons  of  cof- 
fee are  consumed  every  day,  etc.,  etc.  But  the  profits 
of  convict  labor  are  large.  I  am  gratified  to  learn  that 
Capt.  Pilsbury  has  been  elected  Superintendent,  vice 
his  father  who  recently  resigned,  feeling  himself  unable 
to  fulfil  the  duties  of  the  position  any  longer,  as  his 
health  confines  him  almost  constantly  to  his  room  and 
his  bed.  The  change  has  been  expected  for  some 
months  past;  but  I  feared  the  General  might  suddenly 
die,  leaving  the  question  doubtful  whether  his  son  would 
succeed  him ;  because  at  the  late  election  the  county  was 
carried  by  the  Republicans,  who  it  was  presumed  would 
wish  to  give  some  of  their  own  partisans  the  advantage 
of  the  position. 

I  am  told,  however,  that  the  election  passed  off  happi- 
ly and  that  the  Radicals  were  as  prompt  as  the  Demo- 
crats, in  casting  their  votes  for  Captain  P.  So  this 
settles  the  matter,  and  sets  me  at  ease  on  the  subject; 
for  I  am  sure  I  shall  have  fair  treatment  from  him, 
however  long  I  may  be  here.  And  the  Trustees  of  the 
Institution  show  uncommon  wisdom  in  resolving  that 
it  shall  not  be  made  a  mere  political  machine  like  almost 
every  other  public  institution  in  the  State.  None  of 
the  State  Penitentiaries  pay  expenses  (I  learn)  and  for 
the  simple  reason  that  the  Superintendency  has  changed 
with  every  fluctuation  of  politics,  each  temporary  in- 
cumbent considers  himself  entitled  to  "make  hay  while 
the  sun  shines;"  to  say  nothing  of  the  irregularity  of 
system  arising  from  frequent  changes — and  the  outlay 
resulting  therefrom. 

Besides  these  political  establishments  usually  have 
a  number  of  expensive  but  sinecure  offices,  created  to 
give  place  to  needy  partizans. 

Albany  Penitentiary,  on  the  contrary,  has  been  for 


The  Shotwell  Papers  323 

nearly  30  years  in  the  control  of  a  single  mind,  who  has 
been  fortunate  in  having  little  opposition  to  his  plans 
and  arrangements;  so  that  the  Institution  now  moves 
like  clock  work.  Doubtless  it  will  continue  to  flourish 
under  the  management  of  Capt.  P.  who  proposes,  I 
believe,  to  introduce  several  improvements  suggested  by 
his  father's  observations  of  the  Prisons  in  Europe. 

Both  father  and  son  have  been  so  long  connected  with 
this  institution,  that  they  almost  look  upon  it  as  family 
property.  Capt.  P.  was  born  in  State's  Prison;  and 
during  the  40  years  of  his  life,  has  been,  with  brief  in- 
terruptions employed  in  various  capacities  about  one. 
Such  experience  added  to  a  naturally  humane  and  ob- 
liging disposition,  peculiarly  fit  him  for  the  position  he 
now  holds.  He  is  married  to  an  agreeable  and  intelli- 
gent lady,  and  has  a  son  and  daughter,  both  young. 
His  brother  acts  as  an  officer  of  the  Prison.  To  me 
Capt.  P.  has  been  uniformly  accommodating  and  affa- 
ble ;  and  I  consider  myself  fortunate  ( since  my  enemies 
must  send  me  to  a  Penitentiary)  in  being  sent  here. 

"Love  laughs  at  Locksmiths !"  and  the  French  apho- 
rism, "Love  and  Smoke  cannot  be  hid"  are  verified  by  a 
little  affaire  du  coeur  between  a  couple  of  convicts — a 
she  and  a  he — in  this  prison.  I  must  premise  that  all 
the  prisoner's  letters  are  given  to  me  to  envelope,  and 
direct,  which  gives  me  an  opportunity  to  peruse  any  of 
them  likely  to  be  of  interest. 

In  the  instance  alluded  to,  the  sighing  lover  is  in  the 
male  department  making  shoes,  while  his  "ducky  dear" 
enjoys  similar  retirement  among  the  shirt  makers,  and 
chair  bottomers,  of  the  Female  Department.  His  name 
is  Smittin,  Eugene  Smittin;  and  Eugene  is  certainly 
"smitten."  Her  name  is  Howe,  Martha  Howe;  and 
Martha,  I  daresay,  knows  how.  That  the  lovers  are 
in  sentimental  earnest  I  cannot  have  a  doubt  after  read- 
ing their  recent  exchanges. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  when  a  pair  of  sweethearts 
had  by  different  roads,  and  for  separate  offences,  found 
their  way  to  the  seclusion  of  a  Penitentiary,  they  must 
find  it  difficult  to  keep  alive  the  torch  of  affection.  The 
gay  Lothario  must  confess  'tis  a  platonic  piece  of  busi- 


324  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ness  to  make  love,  while  shivering  in  the  narrow  limits 
of  a  stone  cage,  to  a  questionable  maid,  in  a  similar  pre- 
dicament in  another  wing  of  the  Prison. 

But  Pyramus  and  Thisbe  osculated  (that's  a  modest 
word  for  kissing,  ladies)  each  other  through  a  thick 
(was  it  brick?)  wall;  and  as  Shakespeare  goes  on  to  tell 
us, 

"Nor  strong  tower;  nor  walls  of  beaten  brass 
Nor  airless  dungeon ;  nor  strong  links  of  iron 
Can  be  retentive  to  the  strength  of  spirit" — 

Which  means,  I  suppose,  pretty  much  what  the  Hard 
Shell  preacher  (or  maybe  it  was  only  a  deacon)  said 
when  he  told  the  young  folks  all  to  "  'shake  down'  among 
the  straw,  for  there  was  only  one  bed,  and  what  is  to  be 
will  be,  anyhow." 

At  all  events  the  romantic  Eugene  and  his  bewitching 
Martha  are  resolved  that  not  even  the  trifling  embarrass- 
ments of  some  half  dozen  walls  to  say  nothing  of  bolts, 
bars,  chains,  dungeons  and  the  like,  shall  interrupt  the 
course  of  their  true  love.  For  some  weeks  they  have 
been  launching  tender  missives  "per  post  office3'  in  genu- 
ine lover-like  fashion.  The  following  poetical  effusion 
winged  Eugene's  latest  dart  to  the  soft  palpitator  of 
his  charmer,     sic — 

1.  "I  think  of  Thee 

When  day  by  day 
With  downcast  mind 
I  work  my  way." 

2.  "I  think  of  Thee 

When  shadows  be 

Filling  my  cell  with  gloom 

And  I  suffer  sore 

To  my  heart's  core 

With  thoughts  of  Thee  and  Home. 

3.  "Oh!  Think  of  me 

Till  our  union  be 
On  a  better,  brighter  star, 
When  we  have  liberty — 
Be  it  near  or  far." 


The  Shotwell  Papers  325 

There  is  a  fourth  verse,  but  quantum  suff.  I  am 
pained  (but  an  historian  should  be  truthful,  give  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth,  etc.)  to  add  that  the  amourous 
swain  attaches  as  a  postscript,  the  remark,  "and  yet  dear 
Martha,  with  all  thy  faults,,  I  love  Thee  still!"  Had 
she  responded  that  the  "Pot  need  not  call  the  kettle 
black,"  I  should  have  entered  no  complaint,  nor  could 
her  Eugene.  But  she  overlooks — as  many  better  wom- 
en do — all  but  the  fact  that  she  is  loved;  and  consoles 
her  lover  with  the  following  "original"  stanzas: 

"To  my  dear  Eugene — 

1.  Our  love  has  been  no  tender  flower 
For  joys  bright  chaplet  braided 
Drooping  when  tempests  darkly  lower 
By  Grief's  bleak  winter  faded. 

2.  We  have  not  loved  as  those  who  plight 
Their  troth  in  sunny  weather 

While  leaves  are  green  and  skies  are  bright 
To  tread  life's  path  together. 

3.  But  we  have  loved  as  those  who  tread 
The  thorny  path  of  sorrow 

With  clouds  o'er  cast  and  cause  to  dread 
Yet  deeper  gloom  tomorrow. 

4.  That  thorny  path — those  cloudy  skies 
Have  drawn  our  spirits  nearer 
And  rendered  us  by  holiest  ties 
Each  to  the  other  dearer. 

Yours  with  love,  Martha  Howe." 

Now  if  the  sentimental  Eugene  don't  hammer  his  shoe 
pegs  like  a  man  after  receiving  this  appreciative  mis- 
sive, his  soul  must  be  as  tough  as  the  dry  soles  at  which 
he  cobbles.  I  shall  only  add  that  the  foregoing  is  bona 
fide  correspondence. 

February  26th,  1873.  This  morning  "Squire"  Brown 
of  York  Dist.,  S.  C,  who  is  permitted  to  sleep  in  the  hos- 
pital, although  not  relieved  from  labor,  was  called  out, 
and  measured  by  the  tailor  for  a  new  suit  of  clothes; 
a  very  plain  indication  that  the  authorities  of  the  Prison 


326  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

are  satisfied  he  will  not  be  released  during  the  present 
year.  They  take  this  impression  from  an  announce- 
ment in  the  Washington  Chronicle  as  follows:  "The 
Attorney  General  declines  to  issue  a  pardon  to  Saml. 
G.  Brown  who  is  in  the  Penitentiary,  under  5  years 
sentence  as  a  Ku  Klux,  because  he  moved  in  good  so- 
ciety, was  in  fact  a  leader,  well  posted,  and  of  good 
education."  Now  this  statement,  so  far  as  relates  to 
'Squire  Brown's  being  a  leader,  well  posted,  etc.,  and 
consequently,  guilty,  is  utterly  void  of  truth,  as  most 
Radical  statements  are. 

As  I  have  never  before  given  a  direct  account  of  the 
old  man's  misfortunes  I  will  now  do  so;  having  been 
with  him  in  the  same  room  for  nearly  an  half  year,  dur- 
ing which  time  I  had  every  opportunity  for  gleaning 
the  truth  about  him,  from  his  own  conduct  and  asser- 
tions, from  the  letters  of  his  numerous  friends,  and  from 
the  corroberating  statements  of  other  Ku  Klux. 

Mr.  Brown  was  arrested  at  his  home,  nine  miles 
west  of  Yorkville,  S.  C,  on  the  19th  day  of  October, 
1871,  by  a  detachment  of  Federal  Cavalry  assisted  by 
a  number  of  negroes.  He  was  carried  to  an  adjoining 
plantation,  where  he  was  kept  under  guard  in  a  stable 
yard  during  the  whole  day,  while  the  soldiers  were  scour- 
ing the  vicinity  for  his  neighbors,  six  of  whom  were,  also, 
arrested  at  that  time.  Having  been  carried  to  York- 
ville, he  was  locked  up  in  the  county  jail,  which  was 
already  packed  to  overflowing  with  respectable  citizens. 
A  few  days  later  there  were  no  less  than  one  hundred 
and  eighty-four  grown  men  confined  in  four  small 
rooms ! 

The  jailer,  however,  unlike  the  Mongrel  Keepers  in 
Rutherford,  did  all  that  he  could  to  alleviate  the  suffer- 
ings of  his  prisoners,  and  the  ladies  of  the  village  kept 
them  supplied  with  the  delicacies  of  the  season.  Bail 
to  any  amount  could  have  been  given,  but  was  not  al- 
lowed. 

On  the  15th  of  December,  Mr.  Brown  was  taken  to 
Columbia,  where  he  gave  bond  of  $5000  to  appear  at 
court,  and  to  remain  in  the  city  meanwhile.  Subse- 
quently the  court  met,  Judge  Bond  presiding.     The 


The  Shotwell  Papers  327 

jury  consisted  of  eleven  negroes  and  one  disreputable 
white  man,  a  grog  shop  keeper ! 

Of  course  the  negroes  considered  every  Ku  Klux  a 
personal  enemy;  and  the  white  man  being  perhaps  less 
reliable  than  his  colleagues,  there  could  be  no  sort  of 
doubt  about  the  issue  of  any  trial  in  which  the  defendant 
was  obnoxious  to  the  Radical  prosecutors,  and  the  Gov- 
ernment officials.  .  .  . 

But  there  was  little  need  for  even  a  corrupted  jury 
in  these  Ku  Klux  cases ;  because  there  were  hundreds  of 
perjured  wretches  ready  to  swear  so  unblushingly  and 
circumstantially  against  any  of  the  defendants  that  the 
most  virtuous  jury  could  not  avoid  finding  them  guilty 
if  they  did  not  altogether  reject  the  testimony  as  un- 
worthy of  credit.  "Worthless  judges  invariably  create 
a  breed  of  informers  around  them,"  says  Macaulay. 

As  the  trials  proceeded  several  of  the  Government 
witnesses  took  occasion  to  implicate  Mr.  Brown  by  so- 
called  "confessions"  charging  him  with  being  at  certain 
meetings  of  the  Order,  and  with  casual  remarks  about 
his  having  a  Klan, — all  of  which  was  irregular,  and  in- 
jurious to  Mr.  B.,  for  he  was  not  yet  on  trial. 

Now  the  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  the  old  man  was 
not  even  a  member  of  the  order  but  both  of  his  sons  were, 
the  youngest  being  Chief  of  a  Klan.  But  Mr.  B.  had 
attended  one  meeting  of  his  son's  Klan,  his  object  in 
doing  so,  being  to  use  his  influence  to  prevent  severe 
treatment  of  a  young  man,  who  in  a  drunken  frolic  had 
revealed  secrets  of  the  Order,  an  offence  punishable  with 
death.  Besides  he  wished  to  persuade  his  son  to  resign 
the  chieftainship  of  the  Klan  for  the  laxity  that  now 
prevailed  in  the  Order  made  its  speedy  dissolution  de- 
sirable. He  therefore  attended  the  meeting  and  accom- 
plished both  objects — the  resignation  of  his  son,  and  the 
safety  of  the  young  "babbler." 

The  Government,  however,  wanted  victims;  and  no 
one  doubted  that  Brown  would  be  convicted.  His  law- 
yers considering  his  case  hopeless  urged  him  to  submit 
his  defence,  i.  e.,  plead  guilty  and  throw  himself  on  the 
clemency  of  the  court.  For  Judge  Bond  had  caused 
it  to  be  generally  understood  that  all  who  should  confess 


328  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

should  be  let  off  with  merely  nominal  sentences  while 
those  who  should  demand  trial,  should  be  given  the  full 
extent  of  the  law  if  they  failed  to  clear  themselves. 
Major  Merrill  the  military  commandant  at  Yorkville, 
went  further  and  declared  that  if  Brown  submitted  he 
should  be  at  home  in  a  few  weeks.  Such  a  pressure  was 
hard  to  resist;  and  finally  Brown  yielded,  and  his  law- 
yers plead  guilty.  This  was  precisely  as  the  villains 
had  designed;  for  they  knew  the  evidence  was  utterly 
unworthy  of  belief;  but  by  getting  the  old  man  to  sub- 
mit his  case,  they  had  him  fast,  and  stopped  his  com- 
plaints of  unfairness  at  the  same  time.  Then  Jeffreys 
Bond  put  the  climax  to  this  infamous  business  by  sen- 
tencing him  to  serve  five  years  at  hard  labor  in  Albany 
Penitentiary  and  to  pay  a  fine  of  one  thousand  dollars ! 
In  the  depth  of  midwinter  he  was  brought,  and  sent  to 
the  workshops  like  a  common  felon,  as  indeed  was  done 
with  every  one  of  us! 

Since  that  time  he  has  grown  older,  greyer,  and  un- 
naturally broken;  although  he  is  still  quite  lively,  and 
generally  as  cheerful  as  could  be  expected;  considering 
that  he  is  now  above  sixty  years  of  age,  that  he  leaves 
a  wife  and  three  daughters  without  a  male  protector, 
that  his  sons  are  in  exile,  from  which  they  cannot  hope 
to  return  in  years,  and  that  he  has  very  little  hope  of 
seeing  his  family  in  several  years,  if  ever. 

That  he  has  been  greatly  wronged  and  injured,  no 
candid  person  can  doubt;  and  that  this  very  fact  (as  in 
my  own  case)  embitters  the  administration  against  him 
is  equally  true.  He  has  been,  however,  much  comforted 
(as  I  never  was)  by  the  constant  sympathy  of  his  numer- 
ous friends,  who  write  to  him  so  frequently  that  he  rarely 
receives  less  than  three  letters  per  week.  No  one  who 
has  never  suffered  an  unjust  imprisonment,  can  know 
how  much  the  time,  toil,  and  privations  are  lengthened 
by  the  receipt  of  frequent  letters  from  loved  ones  at 
home. 

The  following  interesting  extract  from  a  Southern 
paper  I  copy  as  a  tribute  to  my  friend. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  329 

THE  CASE  OF  SAMUEL  G.  BROWN 

The  New  York  World  contains  a  communica- 
tion from  Mrs.  Westmoreland  of  Atlanta,  Geor- 
gia, narrating  her  efforts  to  secure  Executive  clem- 
ency in  behalf  of  Samuel  G.  Brown,  of  York 
County,  in  this  State,  one  of  the  Ku  Klux  prison- 
ers now  confined  in  the  Albany  penitentiary.  At 
the  instance  of  the  Rev.  David  Wills,  President 
of  Oglethorpe  University,  who  knew  Mr.  Brown 
and  regarded  him  as  an  honest,  upright,  law-abid- 
ing man,  Mrs.  Westmoreland  determined  to  ad- 
dress Mrs.  Governor  Hoffman  in  Mr.  Brown's 
behalf.  The  correspondence  and  the  result  will  be 
found  in  the  extract  we  give: 

Atlanta,  Ga.,  February,  14,  1872. 

Dear  Mrs.  Hoffman:  Although  a  stranger,  you 
will  pardon  the  liberty  I  take  in  thus  addressing 
you  when  my  mission  is  made  known,  for  I  appeal 
to  you  in  the  name  of  humanity — yea,  more,  I 
come  to  beg  you,  as  a  Christian  woman,  and  by 
those  sympathetic  and  softer  feelings  which  God 
has  implanted  in  your  woman's  nature,  to  befriend 
the  friendless  and  to  console  the  afflicted.  There  lies 
in  the  State  Prison  at  Albany  an  old  man  by  the 
name  of  Samuel  G.  Brown,  who  is  sixty-five  years 
of  age,  almost  blind  and  broken  in  health.  He  is 
from  Yorkville,  York  District,  South  Carolina,  and 
is  a  victim  of  Judge  Bond,  of  Ku  Klux  notoriety, 
who  was  sent  to  Carolina  by  Grant,  for  the  pur- 
pose, it  would  seem,  of  prosecuting  the  innocent 
and  protecting  the  infamous.  This  old  man  was 
dragged  from  his  home,  brought  to  Columbia, 
where  Bond's  Court  sits,  and  thrown  into  prison. 
He  was  then  taken  through  the  mockery  of  a  trial, 
and  notwithstanding  he  filed  an  affidavit  proving 
that  so  far  from  acting  with  the  so-called  Ku  Klux 
he  had  gone  at  midnight  on  a  recent  occasion  to 
prevent  the  murder  of  a  negro,  was  sentenced  to 
five  years'  hard  labor  in  the  State  Prison  of  New 
York,  and  required  to  pay  a  fine  of  $1,000.  As  he 


330  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

had  no  money  to  satisfy  this   atrocious  demand 
the  modern  Jeffreys  has  ordered  his  plantation  to 
be  levied  upon  and  sold,  and  at  its  sale  the  poor 
man's  family  will  be  turned  adrift  upon  the  world 
homeless,  fatherless,  and  in  poverty.  Knowing  your 
husband  to  be  the  champion  of  constitutional  lib- 
erty, the  embodiment  of  those  qualities  which  make 
a  true  man  truly  great  and  noble,  and  believing 
that  you  must  imbibe  his  sentiments,  I  hope  I  shall 
not  appeal  in  vain.  Now,  if  the  authorities  will  per- 
mit, will  you  not  visit  this  old  man  in  his  loneliness 
and  try  to  brighten  his  prison's  cell  by  ministering 
to  his  wants.  If  you  have  any  scruples  about  his 
being  a  Southerner,  let  me  tell  you  that  I  fed  and 
cared  for  many  a  Union  soldier  during  the  war, 
and  that  my  husband,  who  was  a  surgeon,  gave  the 
same  attention  to  Union  prisoners  that  he  did  to 
our  own  brave  boys — believing  that  common  hu- 
manity demanded  such  a  course,  and  with  the  hope 
that  our  conduct  might  find  its  duplicate  in  some 
kind  but  Northern  breast.  Rev.  Dr.  Wills,  a  Pres- 
byterian divine,  who  has  begged  me  to  intercede  in 
behalf  of  this  old  man,  has  known  him  for  years. 
He  says  he  is  an  honest,  upright  man,  whose  char- 
acter is  above  reproach,  and  that  he  is  innocent  of 
all  charges  preferred  against  him.  The  Carolina 
people  can  do  nothing  for  him,  for  the  heel  of  the 
tyrant  grinds  them  to  the  earth,  and  the  same  Gov- 
ernment which  hung  a  dead  woman,  and  which 
overrides  Congress  and  the  Constitution,  plunges 
old  men  into  penitentiaries  in  a  distant  State,  and 
exiles  those  who  would  dare  intercede  for  them. 
Thus  it  is  reserved  for  a  Georgian  woman  to  aid 
a  sister  State  and  to  raise  her  voice  against  the 
atrocities,  which  are  daily  enacted  in  her  beloved, 
heart-bleeding,  and  prostrate  South.  If  the  old  man 
needs  clothing  or  comforts,  I  will  at  once  make  up 
a  purse  and  send  it  on  to  supply  his  wants.  Hoping 
I  have  asked  nothing  at  your  hands  which  you  will 
find  it  impossible  to  grant,  and  begging  you  to 


The  Shotwell  Papers  331 

communicate  with  me  at  your  earliest  convenience, 
believe  me  to  be,  respectfully  yours,  etc. 

Maria  Jourdan  Westmoreland. 

To  this  letter  came  the  following  reply : 

Executive  Residence, 
Albany,  N.  Y.,  February  25,  1872. 

Dear  Mrs.  Westmoreland: 

I  received  your  letter  several  days  ago,  and  it 
has  given  me  great  pleasure  to  assist  in  any  way 
and  relieve  the  suffering  of  the  innocent.  The  Gov- 
ernor and  myself  visited  Mr.  Brown  this  morning 
and  had  a  long  and  interesting  conversation  with 
him.  He  stated  the  facts  of  his  imprisonment  with 
great  exactness,  and  I  am  confident  with  truth. 
He  says  he  is  not  in  want  of  anything;  but  I  am 
certain  if  his  friends  should  send  him  a  box  of  cloth- 
ing or  any  comfort,  it  would  be  very  acceptable. 
He  is  troubled  with  rheumatism,  and  Mr.  Pills- 
bury,  of  the  prison,  said  he  would  see  that  he  had 
some  flannels  and  other  articles,  which  I  told  him 
I  would  pay  for.  Mr.  Pillsbury  says  if  his  friends 
decide  to  send  him  a  box  he  will  deliver  the  con- 
tents to  Mr.  Brown.  The  Governor  is  much  inter- 
ested in  the  case,  and  has  written  the  President  for 
a  pardon,  but  we  said  nothing  to  Mr.  Brown  on 
the  subject,  as  it  would  be  cruel  to  give  hope  when 
our  efforts  may  be  in  vain.  If  you  send  any  com- 
forts to  the  old  man  the  box  can  be  expressed  to  our 
care,  and  I  will  see  that  Mr.  Brown  receives  it, 
or  to  Mr.  Pillsbury,  the  Superintendent  of  the 
Penitentiary.  Hoping  to  receive  news  from  the 
President  that  will  gladden  the  hearts  of  wife  and 
children,  as  well  as  those  who  have  taken  such  an 
interest  in  the  old  man's  troubles,  I  remain,  yours 
sincerely, 

Mrs.  John  T.  Hoffman. 

Many  other  and  more  interesting  circumstances  might 
be  mentioned  in  connection  with  this  brief  history  of 
Mr.  Brown's  case;  but  I  say  no  more  at  present;  merely 
quoting  the  words  of  Judge  Strong  respecting  that  de- 


332  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

scription  of  evidence  by  which  all  the  Ku  Klux  have  been 
convicted. 

"It  has  been  well  remarked  that  'confessions'  are  the 
weakest  and  most  suspicious  of  all  testimony:  ever  lia- 
ble to  be  obtained  by  artifice,  false  hopes,  promises  of 
favor,  or  menaces;  seldom  remembered  accurately  or 
reported  with  due  precision  and  incapable  in  their  nature 
of  being  disproved  by  other  negative  evidence.  To 
which  it  may  be  added  that  they  are  easy  to  be  forged 
and  most  difficult  to  guard  against." 

February  27th,  1873.  Snowing.  Busy  all  this  day 
printing  (stencilling)  copies  of  hymns  for  the  Chaplain 
to  hang  in  the  Chapel, — that  all  may  see,  and  sing.  The 
letters  are  about  two  inches  in  length  or  height;  and  an 
ordinary  hymn  fills  a  chart  of  4x6  feet,  in  breadth  and 
length,  respectively.  These  charts  are  plainly  readable 
from  any  part  of  the  Chapel.  The  job  of  printing  them 
is  quite  tedious  and  fatiguing,  as  the  operator  must  bend 
over  his  work,  and  be  careful  to  get  the  letters  in  a 
straight  line.  I  can  only  finish  one  hymn  of  five  verses 
per  day.  Tonight  I  wish  the  hymns  were  at  the  devil! 
(printer's  devil  of  course). 

February  28th.  Chas.  N.  Howard  and  Jas.  Blanks 
of  Ala.,  who  came  here  in  July  under  sentence  for  5 
years,  were  released  today  on  pardon  papers.  I  know 
nothing  about  their  cases  except  that  they  plead  not 
guilty  and  entered  a  protest  against  sentence  being 
passed  on  them.  A  local  paper,  also,  pronounced  them 
"the  victims  of  Dick  Busteed's  venom  and  trickery." 
How  sad  to  hear  these  frequent,  nay  constant,  com- 
plaints of  the  Judiciary,  which  ought  to  be  but  is  not  the 
real  palladium  of  personal  liberty  in  the  land.  Is  it 
any  wonder  there  are  disorders,  and  Societies  of  Regu- 
lators (for  such,  and  no  more,  were  the  various  societies 
known  as  Ku  Klux)  to  suppress  disorder,  in  a  country 
where  the  laws  are  a  dead  letter,  and  the  officers  of  the 
law  mere  agents  of  the  government  to  control  elections 
and  establish  a  base  political  despotism?  Sir  James 
Mackintosh,  whose  opinion  no  one  will  discredit  says: 
"It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  the  highest  obligation 
of  a  citizen  is  that  of  contributing  to  preserve  the  com- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  833 

munity;  and  that  every  other  political  duty — even  that 
of  obedience  to  magistrates,  is  derived  from,  and  must 
be  subordinate  to,  it."  A  sentiment  which  is  more  terse- 
ly stated  in  an  official  letter  of  Hon.  Amos  Kendall, 
Post  Master  General  of  the  United  States  in  1835,  viz: 
"We  owe  an  obligation  to  the  laws,  but  an  higher  one 
to  the  communities  in  which  we  live,  and  if  the  former 
be  perverted  to  destroy  the  latter,  it  is  patriotism  to  dis- 
regard them."  "True  Oh  King!"  most  true!  And 
here  is  what  is  said  of  unjust  legislation,  by  the  distin- 
guished Horace  Mann  (see  his  Report  to  Massts.  Leg- 
islature). 

"Unjust  laws  never  stop  with  merely  extinguishing 
an  individual  right,  or  inflicting  an  individual  wrong. 
They  fashion  and  adapt  the  general  mind  to  injustice. 
They  bind  the  foreign  substance  of  error  to  the  heart 
until  the  fibres  close  around  it,  and  it  becomes  irradi- 
cable  forever.  Erroneous  principles  in  legislation  com- 
mend the  injustice  they  ordain;  they  impress  the  form 
of  right  upon  the  substance  of  wrong,  and  they  with- 
hold from  truth  its  highest  advantage, — the  privilege  of 
being  seen." 

****** 

March  1st.  "Ah!  What  have  we  here?"  Said  I  to 
myself,  says  I,  when  the  Deputy  sent  for  me  to  carry  a 
stout  box  up  to  my  den,  this  afternoon.  And  then  I  saw 
some  pecans,  and  the  secret  was  out.  It  was  another 
Christmas  box  from  one  of  the  best  of  our  Southern 
girls.  One  who  has  done  as  much  as  a  sister  could  do 
to  make  me  comfortable  and  cheerful  since  I  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  Philistines.  May  her  kindness  to  the 
unhappy  prisoner  be  repaid  an  hundredfold,  by  those 
who  have  it  in  their  power,  (if  any  there  be)  to  add  to 
her  present  happiness  and  content!  As  for  me,  I  can 
only  return  my  thanks,  which  is  hardly  an  equivalent 
to  the  rich  feast  of  cakes,  candies,  jellies,  peaches,  pick- 
les, and  other  delicacies  which  fill  the  box.  But  I  well 
know  I  have  no  grasping  creditor;  for  she  is  better 
pleased  to  give  than  to  receive.  To  Mrs.  N.  Y.,  also,  I 
owe  more  than  I  can  pay,  for  attentions  of  this  sort; 


334  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

which  are  the  more  acceptable  because  they  show  that 
though  long  absent  I  am  not  forgotten,  nor  bereft  of 
the  respect  and  sympathy  of  that  class  of  our  people 
whose  good  opinion  I  most  desire  to  have. 

M.  M.  F.  says  "I  have  not  written  to  you  since  Oct. 
as  it  seems  utterly  useless.  You  can't  imagine  how 
much  distressed  I  was  to  hear  you  do  not  receive  my 
letters,  and  I  think  too,  I  often  censured  with  others  for 
forgetfulness,  etc." 

Certainly  it  is  a  shame  that  the  few  letters  written 
to,  and  by  me  should  be  intercepted  by  a  set  of  vaga- 
bonds with  unblushing  impunity!  But  it  seems  im- 
possible to  devise  any  remedy. 

When  a  government  coolly  undertakes  to  destroy  the 
liberties  or  curtail  the  privilege  of  any  portion  of  its 
constituents,  the  first  step  is  to  establish  a  thorough 
system  of  espionage;  and  from  that  hour  the  mails  no 
longer  afford  any  security  for  private  correspondence. 
I  need  not  add  that  this  being  the  case  at  the  present 
time  I  have  no  other  resource  than  to  accustom  myself 
to  silence  and  apparent  neglect  trusting  that  at  some 
future  day  I  shall  discover  I  have  more  friends  than 
I  was  aware  of. 

March  2nd.  Genl.  L.,  ever  prompt  to  acquaint  me 
of  anything  promising  release,  sends  me  a  letter  he  had 
just  received  from  Senator  M.  W.  Ransom  who  writes 
from  Washington  (under  date  of  ) 

as  follows: 

"I  am  doing  all  that  I  can  for  Shot  well,  and  will  even- 
tually have  him  released.  But  it  takes  time" 

To  which  Genl.  L.  adds  "Ransom  is  not  a  man  to 
throw  away  his  words  and  as  you  see,  he  speaks  con- 
fidently. I  don't  know  to  what  period  the  'time'  re- 
quired may  extend,  not  very  remote  let  us  trust.  I 
suppose  there  are  many  people  to  be  approached;  and 
some  tedious  formalities  to  rencontre.  However,  I  real- 
ly feel  that  I  can  venture  the  opinion  that  your  bondage 
approaches  its  close.  Therefore  courage  mon  ami!  and 
we  shall  soon  have  the  great  happiness  of  taking  you 
bv  the  hand,"  etc. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  335 

I  can  hardly  feel  any  participation  in  these  hopes, 
although  it  gives  me  much  pleasure  and  comfort  to 
know  I  have  a  few  friends  yet. 

I  answer  the  Genls.  letter  as  follows: 

March  2nd.  Thro'  courtesy  of  Capt.  P.  (our 
Supt.)  I  have  special  permission  to  write  semi- 
monthly and  accordingly  am  enabled  promptly  to 
acknowledge  your  esteemed  favor  of  19th  inst.  to- 
day reed,  as  well  as  those  of  earlier  date.  I  assure 
you  dear  Genl.  it  gives  me  great  satisfaction  to  have 
so  true  and  earnest  friend  in  this  hour  of  mine  ex- 
tremity and  I  trust  I  shall  never  be  ungrateful  for 
your  disinterested  exertions  to  enlist  other  influ- 
ential persons  in  my  behalf.  Were  the  circum- 
stances other  than  they  are,  i.  e.,  were  the  applica- 
tion to  be  made  for  anyone  but  myself,  the  result  I 
am  sure,  would  be  immediately  successful.  But 
as  things  stand,  I'm  not  sanguine,  nay  I  can  scarce- 
ly aspire  to  any  hope  whatever.  The  same  malice 
and  personal  and  political  animosity  which  actuated 
the  men  who  thought  to  ruin  me  by  sending  me  here 
still  exists  to  oppose  my  release,  as  I  have  good 
reason  to  know.  Indeed,  should  all  the  distin- 
guished and  honorable  men  of  our  country  unite 
in  an  appeal  in  my  favor  I  doubt  if  anything  would 
be  accomplished  against  the  private  remonstrance 
of  a  few  such  mongrels  as  Caldwell,  Carrow,  Logan, 
Justice  et  als. 

Besides  I  have  long  remarked  the  administra- 
tion designs  to  keep  foul  hold  of  every  one  of  us 
capable  of  giving  the  least  publicity  to  the  wrongs 
we  have  experienced.  None  but  the  most  ignorant 
and  insignificant  are  to  escape  the  iron  grasp  for  a 
long  time  yet.  The  question  is  not  whether  the 
prisoner  is  guilty,  but  whether  he  has  any  influence 
to  exert  against  the  Radical  party,  or  brains  enough 
to  expose  the  injustice  of  trying  a  man  before  a 
packed  jury  and  a  corrupt  and  partizan  Judge. 
Thus  even  Mercy,  the  purest  of  virtues,  is  made 
subservient  to  base  political  expediency.  Of  course 
it  is  assumed  that  the  more  intelligent  the  prisoner 


336  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  greater  his  guilt,  and  that  the  poor  ignorant 
fellows  were  all  dupes  of  the  designing.  But  this 
is  a  false  assumption  in  many  cases,  in  my  own 
particularly.  The  truth  is  that  every  one  of  those 
outrages  which  have  cast  oppobrium  on  the  Klan 
was  committed  by  a  lot  of  reckless  and  insubordi- 
nate fellows  who  could  be  neither  counselled  nor 
controlled ;  and  who,  instead  of  being  the  dupes  of 
the  better  informed  were  a  pest  and  a  source  of 
mortification  to  all  right  minded  members  of  the 
Order.  And  I  regret  to  add  that  the  most  des- 
perate and  intractable  characters  among  them  usu- 
ally escaped  by  turning  State's  evidence. 

In  confirmation  of  the  foregoing  view  of  the  Ad- 
ministration policy  I  have  just  seen  the  following 
extract  from  the  Washington  Chronicle,  "The  At- 
torney General  declines  to  issue  a  pardon  for  S.  G. 
Brown  because  he  moved  in  good  society,  was  in 
fact  a  leader,  well  posted  and  of  good  education." 
Now  there  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  this;  for  B. 
is  a  poor  old  man,  past  60,  of  small  property,  and 
only  common  education;  in  short,  merely  an  aver- 
age "small  farmer"  of  upper  S.  C.  and  was  never 
in  any  way  connected  with  the  Klan  I  am  satisfied. 
But  as  he  is  about  the  most  respectable  of  the  pris- 
oners from  his  State,  the  government  intends  to 
hold  him  until  he  dies,  or  turns  Republican,  or  until 
he  will  be  glad  to  sneak  home  and  bury  his  wrongs 
in  silence  and  obscurity.  I  mention  his  case  simply 
to  show  the  barrenness  of  my  own  prospects.  The 
same  causes  will  work  the  same  effect  to  defeat  the 
efforts  of  my  friends  in  my  own  case. 

However  if  I  could  allow  myself  to  hope,  I  know 
not  any  more  desirable  persons  to  have  the  conduct 
of  my  affairs  than  those  honorable  gentlemen  to 
whom  you  have  written  and  I  beg  you  to  express  to 
them  the  gratification  and  gratitude  I  feel  for  all 
that  they  have  done  or  may  attempt.  I  thought  of 
writing  to  Messrs  R.  and  H.  to  give  some  expres- 
sion of  my  sentiments  and  to  mention  a  circum- 
stance or  so  that  might  facilitate  but  on  reflection 


The  Shotwell  Papers  337 

I  will  await  your  advice  about  it.  I  should  feel  much 
mortified  if  the  application  for  pardon,  were  based 
on  any  supposition  that  I  am  humbled  and  re- 
pentant or  anything  of  that  sort.  I  shall  remain 
here  to  the  last  minute  of  my  cruel  term  in  pref- 
erence to  confessing  that  I  was  justly  punished. 
But  I  am  sure  I  can  trust  to  your  discretion  and  I 
only  allude  to  the  possibility  because  I  am  not  per- 
sonally acquainted  with  Genl.  R.  and  Mr.  H.  And 
I  shall  never  before  my  dying  day  forget  the  hu- 
miliation and  amazement  with  which  I  heard  Mr. 
Fuller,  one  of  my  counsel  at  my  trial  appealing  for 
"mercy,  mercy,  mercy,"  and  basing  his  appeal  on 
the  ground  that  my  father,  "a  poor  clergyman  with 
respectable  connections/ '  would  be  much  afflicted 
as  he  had  already  been  "by  the  recklessness  and  in- 
discretions of  his  son  in  these  transactions."  Con- 
ceive the  absurdity !  Father  did  not  even  know  that 
I  belonged  to  the  Klan  although  I  presume  he  ex- 
pected it  and  we  were  of  one  mind  respecting  the 
disorderly  element  of  the  Order.  But  this  statement 
of  Mr.  F.  (prompted  I  think  by  a  false  friend  of 
mine)  was  a  virtual  acknowledgement  of  my  guilt 
and  covered  me  with  shame  and  confusion;  besides 
giving  that  scoundrel  Judge  Brooks  an  opportunity 
to  inveigh  in  a  special  tirade  against  me,  as  well  as 
to  cast  reflections  on  my  father.  The  recollection  of 
that  miserable  occasion  is  still  an  horrible  burden  on 
my  spirits,  etc.,  etc. 

March  4th.  Ugh!  'Tis  so — so — so  cold!  Water  froze 
within  12  feet  of  a  large  stove  last  night  and  that  too  in 
a  room  where  there  were  14  men  sleeping!  Who  can 
apologize  for  such  an  intolerable  climate! 

This  day  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  the  most  in- 
capable, and  undeserving  of  Chief  Magistrates  will  be 
confirmed  in  his  Sinecure  office  for  another  term  of  four 
years.  Were  Grant  a  man  of  fine  feelings  and  generous 
sentiments,  we  might  hope  that  hence  forward  he  would 
show  some  magnanimity  towards  and  consideration  for, 
the  down-trodden  people  of  the  South.  We  poor  victims 
of  his  political  policy  might,  also,  hope  for  a  restoration 


338  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

of  that  precious  boon  of  liberty  of  which  we  have  been 
defrauded.  It  might  be  expected  that  now  he  had  se- 
cured his  re-election,  and  firmly  established  his  dynasty, 
he  would  be  more  tolerant  towards  those  whose  princi- 
ples taught  them  to  prefer  a  democratic  form  of  Govern- 
ment. 

But  from  such  a  man  as  Grant  we  can  look  for  noth- 
ing. His  very  election  palsied  all  hope  for  better  things. 
His  stolid  soul  will  accept  all  the  honors  that  a  blind 
faction  can  procure  for  him ;  and  never  a  thought  will  he 
give  to  the  victims  sacrificed  to  obtain  for  him  those  hon- 
ors. Truly  he  is  a  President  worthy  of  the  fanatics  who 
chose  him  for  their  Lord  and  Master. 

March  6th.  Bright,  clear,  and  pleasant  to  look  at 
(through  a  thick  pane  of  glass)  is  the  weather  today; 
although  if  one  should  poke  his  nose  into  the  outer-at- 
mosphere I'm  sure  'twould  be  like  running  against  an 
iceberg!  Down  in  Dixie,  I  daresay,  the  windows  are 
opened — and  flowers  too — and  Spring  is  fast  driving  old 
winter  to  his  Yankee  quarters.  But  up  here  the  old 
Blow-hard  has  full  sway,  and  is  monarch  of  all  he  sur- 
veys. I  am  of  opinion  that  I  should  refuse  the  best  farm 
hereabouts,  if  given  on  condition  that  I  should  farm  it 
all  the  year  round.  The  climate  would  put  the  agricul- 
turist down  among  his  fertilizers  in  a  season  or  two.  No 
wonder  the  Yankees  are  a  close-fisted  inhospitable  race ; 
they  are  at  too  much  labor  and  suffering  to  get  their 
money  to  permit  of  their  spending  it  generously. 

But  this  first  bright  spell  of  Spring  sets  me  off,  wan- 
dering beyond  prison  bounds.  My  thoughts  run 
strangely  to  some  familiar  scenes  of  youth,  and  I  wonder 
with  Campbell — 

Oh  when  shall  I  visit  the  land  of  my  birth — 
The  loveliest  land  on  the  face  of  the  earth — 
When  shall  I,  in  its  scenes  of  affection  explore? 

Its  forests;  its  fountains, 

Our  hamlets,  our  mountains, 
With  the  pride  of  our  mountains — the  girl  I  adore  ? 

March  7th.  Slept  little  last  night  owing  to  Les 
Miserables  whose  groaning  and  yelling  was  monstrously 
provoking.  One  of  my  patients,  a  wretched  vagrant  or 


The  Shotwell  Papers  339 

"tramp,"  is  afflicted  with  Bright's  disease  which  has 
swollen  him  to  the  size  of  an  hogshead.  His  outcries 
show  that  his  lungs  are  not  affected  in  the  least.  Another 
miserable  has  an  abscess  in  his  throat  that  gives  to  his 
breathing  a  sound  resembling  a  broken  wind  horse 
climbing  a  hill. 

It  is  impossible  to  feel  any  interest  in,  or  much  sym- 
pathy for,  these  degraded  wretches,  whose  slovenly 
habits,  and  utter  vulgarity  offend  every  instinct  of  a 
well  bred  person;  but  I  consider  it  a  duty  to  do  all  in 
my  power  to  alleviate  their  sufferings ;  and  no  one,  white 
or  black,  has  ever  lacked  for  careful  attention  since  I 
took  charge  of  the  hospital.  Of  this  I  am  repeatedly 
assured  by  patients  themselves;  who  also  tell  me  that 
they  had  far  different  treatment  before  I  came  up. 
Major  Hodge  was  too  indolent  or  thought  himself  too 
good  to  give  any  attention  to  the  sick  (although  placed 
here  for  that  purpose)  and  Jones,  left  to  himself  had 
many  excuses,  and  a  keen  inclination,  for  the  same  neg- 
lect. Consequently  the  helpless  had  to  shift  as  best  they 
could. 

For  my  part  I  can  say  without  boasting  (for  'twas 
only  an  act  of  humanity  and  duty)  that  I  have  fed, 
lifted,  and  watched  with  sick  negroes,  and  still  more 
filthy  white  men,  as  carefully  as  if  they  were  personal 
friends.  And  yet  I  am  sent  here  on  the  charge  of  being 
chief  of  an  organization  to  murder  and  exterminate  the 
whole  African  race  in  America !  Bah ! 

This  day  closes  with  a  magnificent  sunset.  Old  Sol, 
like  an  immense  ball  of  gold  balances  on  the  summit  of 
the  blue  Catskills,  30  miles  distant  and  every  elevated 
object  between  is  gilded  with  glory,  while  the  whole 
Heavens  blaze  with  variegated  tints  beyond  description. 
And  through  the  open  window  comes  a  gentle  breeze 
from  the  South,  the  first  of  the  Season  I'm  sure;  and 
now  at  last  we  begin  to  hope  for  decent  weather.  But  oh ! 
the  longing  to  be  beyond  these  prison  bars!  To  mingle 
with  the  gay,  the  happy,  the  fair!  To  be  with  the  loved 
ones  at  home! 


340  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Society,  Friendship,  and  love 
Divinely  bestowed  upon  man — 
Oh  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove 
How  soon  would  I  taste  you  again ! 

March  8th.  Have  just  had  instructions  to  prepare 
to  receive  visitors,  i.  e.  to  dress  up  the  beds,  and  all  the 
convalescents  to  go  to  their  chairs  between  the  beds. 
They  are  expected  to  keep  their  eyes  on  the  floor  or  on 
their  books  while  visitors  are  present.  This  is  the  stand- 
ing order  for  state  occasions.  I  wonder  if  any  public  in- 
stitution was  ever  seen  in  its  every  day  dress  by  formal 
visitors  ?  Invariably  the  word  is  passed  in  front  of  them, 
like  the  signals  of  the  Highland  clans,  and  as  they  pass 
from  department  to  department  everything  that  they  are 
permitted  to  see  is  ready  for  inspection. 

I  do  not  mean  to  insinuate,  however,  that  there  are 
here  any  horrors  to  hide  or  any  filth  to  clean  up.  So  far  as 
I  have  ever  seen  there  has  not  been  a  day  nor  an  hour  in 
which  a  casual  visitor  would  have  pronounced  the  estab- 
lishment in  the  least  disorder,  or  unsightly  condition; 
for  all  such  matters  are  attended  to  in  systematic  daily 
order,  without  variation  of  time,  weather,  or  any  other 
circumstances,  consequently  the  appearance  of  things 
which  each  visitor  sees  is  by  no  means  delusive ;  although 
as  I  said,  there  is  invariably  a  dressing  up  of  all  quar- 
ters when  formal  visitors  are  expected. 

P.  S.  The  threatened  demonstration  failed  to  take 
place.  "Nobody  hurt." 

I  have  been  exceedingly  provoked  all  day  by  the  an- 
tics of  the  "Shepherd"  (Wilcox) ,  our  so-called  religious 
monomaniac.  He  is  a  long  legged,  gaunt,  possum-eyed 
Tennessean,  whose  sole  object  in  life  seems  to  be  to 
show  his  own  meanness  and  render  uncomfortable  every- 
body around  him.  This  morning  he  got  up  cross,  and  be- 
gan to  make  so  much  noise  that  I  was  obliged  to  take 
hold  of  him.  He  then  burst  into  a  terrible  passion  and 
became  so  insulting  that  I  felt  like  kicking  him  out  of 
the  room.  For  I  am  satisfied  the  fellow  is  a  cheat — a  vile 
hypocrite.  Having  watched  him  closely  I  detected  a  set- 
tled plan  to  pass  for  a  lunatic,  and  thus  facilitate  his  ob- 
taining a  pardon  for  which  his  father  is  now  working  at 


The  Shotwell  Papers  341 

Washington,  through  the  agency  of  Brownlow  and 
other  notorious  scalawags.  Wilcox  confessed  to  a  chum 
of  his  that  his  father  and  his  lawyers  told  him  how  to  act. 
Yet,  strange  to  say,  the  officers  persist  in  considering 
him  crazy  and  Capt.  P.  has  written  a  strong  letter 
recommending  his  pardon  on  account  of  his  derange- 
ment !  The  fellow  is  as  sane  as  any  man ;  but  is  of  a  mean, 
cunning,  irritable  disposition;  and  having  discovered 
that  he  can  escape  labor,  and  be  as  insulting  as  he  wishes 
under  the  guise  of  lunacy,  has  deliberately  chosen  that 
policy,  as  many  other  prisoners  have  done,  with  less  suc- 
cess. He  was  sentenced  for  ten  years  for  robbing  the 
mail ;  but  as  robbing  the  mail  is  a  common  offense  ( I  beg 
pardon — 'tis  an  unfortunate  eccentricity)  among  Mon- 
grel postmasters,  I  suppose  he  soon  will  be  at  liberty, 
and  in  office  again. 

I  never  see  this  fellow,  in  his  sanctimonious  aspect 
(i.  e.  when  he  is  not  mad)  without  recalling  Whittier's 
picture  of  a  Puritan  (in  "Miriam") 

I  hear  again  the  snuffled  tones 
I  see  in  dreary  vision 
Dyspeptic  dreamers,  spiritual  bores 
And  prophets,  "with  a  mission." 

But  Wilcox's  case  is  more  aptly  described  perhaps  as 
follows — 

There  are  some  moody  persons,  not  a  few 
Who  turned  by  nature  with  a  gloomy  bias 
Renounce  black  devils  to  adopt  the  blue 
And  think  when  they  are  dismal — they  are  pious. 

March  9th.  Surprised  by  a  couple  of  letters —  A 
and  Aunt's !  Both  too  much  like  Job's  comforters,  to  be 
pleasant  reading.  Addie  is  arranging  to  go  off  on  a  wild 
goose  chase  for  fortune  in  the  West,  to  Texas!  What 
folly!  He  has  neither  the  education  nor  the  knowledge 
of  the  world  to  give  him  a  chance  among  Western 
roughs  and  having  no  money  but  expensive  habits,  he 
would  soon  settle  down  to  the  occupation  of  plow-boy 
or  cow-boy;  for  I  believe  the  last  is  the  principal  open- 
ing for  penniless  youths  in  Texas. 

But  I  am  chiefly  saddened  by  the  gradual  breaking 


342  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

up  of  the  family  circle.  Every  day  I  am  more  satisfied 
that  a  man  without  a  "Home"  and  family  connections 
is  decidedly  at  a  disadvantage  in  the  world.  He  is  the 
mere  drift  wood  of  society.  The  community  regards  him 
as  an  unsettled  man  who  has  little  or  no  interest  in  local 
affairs.  I  recollect  that  when  I  was  a  candidate  for  the 
Constitutional  Convention,  men  said,  "Why  if  Shotwell 
were  elected,  he  would  go  off  to  Raleigh,  and  live  there. 
We  should  never  see  him  again;  for  he  has  no  attach- 
ments here."  This  was  a  mistake;  still  it  illustrates  the 
tendency  of  people  to  look  at  such  matters. 

Now  if  Addie  goes  to  Texas,  and  M.  settles  in  New 
Jersey,  while  I  am  penned  in  prison,  and  if  father  should 
succumb  to  his  many  burdens  and  trials,  our  family  cir- 
cle would  be  utterly  broken,  and  we  who  have  family 
connections  in  nearly  every  state  in  the  Union,  would 
have  as  little  connection  with  them,  as  an  exiled  Arab 
has  with  his  tribe  in  the  desert.  Reflections  of  this  nature 
cause  me  a  gloomy  hour. 

Aunt  S.  intends — tries — to  write  affectionately;  but 
so  deeply  prejudiced  is  she  by  the  Radical  lies  about  the 
Ku  Klux  that  nothing  I  could  say  could  change  her 
opinion  in  my  favor  on  this  subject;  although  she  pro- 
fesses the  warmest  attachment  personally.  She  says, 
"Your  letter  was  long  and  interesting  and  I  sent  it  to 
Wm.  Dwight  requesting  him  to  read  it.  Eliza  replied 
that  she  had  read  it  and  thought  it  very  interesting,  but 
that  her  husband  could  not  find  time  to  finish  it!"  This 
means  that  Dwight,  who  is  editor  of  the  Connecticut 
School  Journal,  like  every  other  Radical  journalist  of 
the  North,  has  abused  and  misrepresented  the  South  so 
constantly  during  the  past  ten  years  or  longer,  that  he 
now  accepts  every  malicious  lie  against  us,  as  gospel 
truth,  and  has  educated  himself  to  look  for  no  good  thing 
out  of  the  political  Nazareth  which  he  and  his  colleagues 
of  the  New  England  press,  have  created  (on  paper)  in 
the  South;  hence  he  had  not  even  patience  to  read  the 
frank  and  candid  statements  contained  in  my  letter  to 
Aunt  S.  And  such  is  the  character  and  mode  of  thinking 
of  thousands  of  Northern  men,  whose  position  in  society 
or  in  politics  permits  them  to  shape  public  opinion ;  and 


The  Shotwell  Papers  343 

thereby  to  sustain  the  administration  in  its  most  tyranni- 
cal usurpations  by  a  show  of  popular  approval.  These 
manufacturers  of  false  impressions,  and  pernicious  pub- 
lic sentiment  are  the  worst  enemies  of  Liberty  in  our 
Country.  The  philosophic  De  Toqueville,  [whose]  dis- 
sertations on  American  traits  are  marvelously  just,  thus 
discourses  on  this  very  subject. 

It  is  not  that  I  object  like  other  European  writers 
to  the  weakness  of  the  American  government;  I 
object  to  its  force;  not  to  the  extreme  of  Liberty 
that  I  find  there,  but  that  there  is  no  protection 
against  tyranny.  Is  any  one  treated  with  cruelty 
and  injustice  in  America,  to  whom  shall  he  appeal? 
To  the  public  opinion?  It  is  that  which  forms  the 
majority.  To  the  legislative  body?  It  represents  the 
majority  and  obeys  it  blindly.  To  the  Executive 
Power?  It  is  named  by  the  majority  and  is  a  pass- 
ive instrument  in  its  hands.  To  the  public  force? 
Public  force  is  only  the  majority  under  arms.  To 
a  jury?  It  is  but  the  majority  clothed  with  the 
power  of  pronouncing  its  decrees.  The  judges  them- 
selves in  some  states  elected  by  the  majority;  how- 
ever unjust  or  unreasonable  your  treatment  you 
have  no  course  but  to  submit. 

(Again  he  says)  I  rest  the  origin  of  all  power  on 
the  will  of  the  people,  and  yet  I  regard  as  impious 
and  detestable,  the  maxim  that  the  majority  have 
a  right  to  do  as  they  think  best.  How  is  this? — do 
I  not  contradict  myself?  No,  for  there  is  a  general 
law,  which  has  been  adopted,  not  only  by  a  majority 
of  the  people,  but  by  a  majority  of  the  human  race; 
and  this  law  is  the  law  of  justice.  It  is  justice,  then, 
that  forms  the  right  of  every  people  to  do  what 
they  choose.  .  .  .  When  I  refuse  to  obey  an  unjust 
law  I  appeal  from  the  sovereignty  of  the  people, 
to  the  sovereignty  of  the  human  race. 

Now  I  suppose  there  is  not  an  intelligent  man  in 
America  that  will  dispute  the  correctness  of  this  position, 
since  it  is  the  same  upon  which  our  forefathers  stood  at 
the  Revolution;  but  while  admitting  this,  they  will  con- 


344  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

demn  the  Southern  people  for  resisting  the  most  unjust 
legislation  known  to  history ! 

Eo  die.  A  few  hours  ago  a  terrible  bellowing  was 
heard  in  the  cells,  and  just  now  a  man  has  been  fetched 
into  the  hospital  bleeding  like  a  bull  from  a  severe  cut 
in  the  forehead.  He  and  his  cell-mate  having  different 
theories  of  religion  engaged  in  a  controversy,  to  which 
the  Catholic  added  a  knock-down  argument  with  results 
as  above  mentioned.  Sunday  in  prison,  like  Sunday  dur- 
ing the  war  is  commonly  distinguished  by  a  battle.  The 
reason  is  that  many  of  the  convicts  cannot  read  or  write, 
and  being  shut  up  in  their  cells  all  day  on  the  Sabbath, 
are  apt  to  quarrel,  for  pastime. 

March  10th.  Yesterday  we  had  in  Chapel  instead 
of  a  sermon,  what  is  called  up  here  a  "Singing  (or 
Praise)  service."  The  hymns  I  printed  recently  were 
hung  against  the  wall  in  rear  of  the  pulpit;  and  Mr. 
Coats,  a  professional  singer,  led  the  music,  assisted  by 
the  organ.  We  have  these  services  frequently.  It  might 
be  supposed  that  criminals  undergoing  discipline  so 
strict  as  is  enforced  here,  would  not  have  much  music 
in  their  souls,  if  they  had  ever  known  how  to  sing.  But 
the  fact  is,  as  the  Chaplain  remarks,  and  my  own  ears 
confirm,  that  the  singing  in  this  Penitentiary  Chapel  is 
more  general,  more  spirited  and  almost  more  correct, 
than  that  of  many  city  congregations.  These  700  repro- 
bates sing  with  a  will  and  most  of  them  seem  familiar 
with  these  hymns — especially  all  the  old  Methodist 
tunes,  "Jesus  Lover  of  My  Soul,"  "Rock  of  Ages," 
"Greenlands  Icy  Mountains,"  etc. 

March  11th.  Deputy  fetched  me  a  letter  for  Stamp- 
ers, one  of  my  patients  who  is  very  low.  It  was  from 
Col.  Jno.  A.  Summers  of  Abingdon  Va.,  to  whom  I 
wrote  at  Stampers'  request,  urging  him  to  get  the  old 
man  a  pardon.  Summers  replies  that  he  is  confident  of 
success  as  all  the  U.  S.  officials  in  Abingdon  sympa- 
thize with  Stampers.  This  is  good  news  for  the  latter 
and  he  seemed  to  brighten  up  somewhat  when  I  read 
the  letter  to  him ;  but  I  am  of  opinion  he  will  not  need 
a  pardon  from  Grant.  He  is  ticketed  for  the  grave;  al- 
though he  may  hold. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  345 

4 :30  P.  M.  He  is  dead.  Two  minutes  before  the 
event,  he  was  asked  if  he  did  not  feel  better  since  he  had 
good  news?  "Oh!  yes,  much  better,"  said  he,  and  turn- 
ing on  his  side,  he  died.  Query:  Is  he  "better?"  Perhaps 
so,  doubtless  better  so  far  as  mundane  happiness  is 
concerned,  for  life  was  but  misery  to  him;  but  perhaps 
'twas  like  jumping  out  of  the  frying  pan  into  the  fire. 
Perhaps  he  is  keeping  company  with  Dives  &  Co.  down 
among  the  Lucif ernians ;  for  his  God  was  the  "Al- 
mighty dollar,"  and  a  counterfeit  dollar  at  that.  For  16 
years,  or  longer,  he  had  pursued  the  business  of  coun- 
terfeiting, I  am  told;  although  his  lack  of  intelligence 
and  his  mental  imbecility  seemed  to  refute  the  asser- 
tion. His  name  was  E.  C.  Stampers,  of  Ashe  County, 
N.  C.  Post  Office,  "Mouth  of  Wilson,"  Virginia.  I 
could  not  but  pity  this  wretched  old  man,  dying  in  the 
hospital  of  a  penitentiary,  over  a  thousand  miles  from 
home:  but  on  reflection,  although  hard,  it  is  fair;  and 
as  he  had  all  necessary  attention,  it  was  as  good  a  place 
for  such  a  man  to  die  in,  as  he  could  have  had  at  home. 

March  12th.  This  magnificent  sunshiny  morning, 
tends  to  increase  the  poignancy  of  my  monotonous  life 
"behind  the  bars."  Fair  weather  is  by  no  means  the  most 
agreeable  to  the  prisoner  in  close  confinement.  When 
the  sky  is  clear,  and  the  sun  and  the  South  Wind  mak- 
ing the  atmosphere  balmy  and  refreshing,  the  captive 
longs  to  be  out,  longs  to  smell  the  fragrant  flowers,  to 
wander  in  the  field,  and  above  all  to  enjoy  the  pleasures 
of  charming  society.  Such  a  day  fills  me  with  desire  for 
active  life.  I  crave  the  excitement  of  stirring  business. 
On  such  a  day,  too,  one  can  recollect  familiar  scenes  of 
the  past.  A  thousand  beauties  of  scenery  and  climate, 
to  which  perhaps  we  gave  little  heed  when  they  were 
before  us,  now  recur  to  memory  with  unnatural  vivid- 
ness. It  is,  indeed,  only  when  we  are  afar  from  our  coun- 
try that  we  know  the  attachment  we  have  for  it.  Which 
very  clearly  shows  'tis  true,  that  "distance  lends  en- 
chantment to  the  view." 

Genl.  Pilsbury  was  up  in  Hospital  this  morning  for 
the  last  time  I  fear.  He  has  become  very  thin  and  emaci- 
ated, and  so  weak  that  his  step  is  tottering.  I  gave  him 


346  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

my  arm  to  descend  the  stairs,  but  even,  when  thus  as- 
sisted, he  could  make  but  a  short  distance  without  paus- 
ing. I  trust  the  warm  weather  may  be  of  advantage  to 
him. 

March  16th.  Utterly  disappointed  as  usual  not  a 
line  from  home,  or  from  any  of  my  so-called  friends. 
Let  me  never  forget  the  lesson  I  am  learning.  And 
never  cease  to  watch  for  an  opportunity  to  repay  my 
teachers.  Commenced  the  study  of  Phonography,  one 
hour  daily  for  six  months.1 

Have  just  finished  the  "Life  of  Genl.  Geo.  B.  Mc- 
Clellan," written  in  1864  by  C.  H.  Hillard.  This  book 
is  a  marvel  in  its  way;  because,  although  its  author  is 
a  Massachusetts  Yankee,  writing  at  a  time  when  the 
whole  North  was  boiling  and  seething  with  prejudice  and 
fanatical  fury,  it  bears  few  marks  of  sectional  spirit, 
few  passages  of  denunciation  of  the  South;  and  is  a 
much  more  generous  estimate  of  Confederate  valor, 
skill,  and  humanity,  than  I  have  ever  seen  from  a 
Yankee  pen.  Gen.  Lee  and  Stonewall  Jackson  come 
in  for  no  meagre  praise.  To  McClellan,  himself,  the 
book  is  a  noble  tribute,  although  written  without  his 
knowledge  (I  believe)  and  certainly  without  unduly 
complimenting  him.  Its  dry  historic  record  is  sufficient 
flattering  for  any  ordinary  record;  while  the  clear  ex- 
position of  Abe  Lincoln's  bungling  interference  with 
military  matters,  and  the  persistent  abuse  of  McClellan 
by  the  Radical  leaders  and  War  Committees,  fairly 
forces  our  compassion  for  the  unfortunate  General  not- 
withstanding that  we  fought  against  and  glorified  in  his 
defeat.  That  McClellan  was  the  first  military  genius 
the  North  produced  cannot  be  disputed  by  any  impar- 
tial mind.  That  he  is  an  head  and  shoulders  above  Grant 
is  even  less  doubtful.  Had  Grant  been  in  command  at 
Richmond  during  the  "Seven  Day's  Battle,"  the  whole 
Federal  army  would  have  been  captured.  In  moral  char- 
acter there  is  no  comparison  between  the  men.  When 
McClellan  sat  down  in  his  tent  at  Harrison's  Landing 
and  wrote  his  well  known  letter  to  Lincoln,  declaring 
that  the  South  must  be  treated  more  justly,  and  the 

1  This  paragraph  is  crossed  out  in  the  manuscript. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  347 

war  carried  on  more  humanely,  etc.,  he  did  what  not 
one  man  in  ten  thousand  could  do  after  suffering  so 
great  a  discomfiture.  That  letter  alone  might  serve  as 
McClellan's  epitaph ;  to  show  the  firmness,  calmness,  in- 
tegrity and  magnanimity  of  his  soul. 

Scruggs  has  a  letter  telling  that  we  are  all  expected 
at  home!  What  bosh!  Today  I  send  a  letter  to  Addie, 
enclosing  one  to  ma  chere  amie,  thanking  her  for  the 
fine  box  I  rec'd  recently.  I  note  this  because  I  doubt  if 
she  ever  gets  the  letter.  It  seems  useless  to  write  to  a 
Southern  postoffice  having  a  Radical  keeper. 

March  17th.  "St.  Patrick's  day  in  the  morning" 
comes  in  like  a  "March  Lion."  This  building  is  placed 
to  catch  the  full  force  of  the  wind  and  today  it  is  shaken 
as  if  it  were  a  canvas  tent. 

I  have  just  had  another  squabble  with  our  religio- 
monomaniac.  He  says  he  wont  obey  the  rules,  that  he 
wont  obey  anybody  but  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  "who 
died  that  I  might  be  free — free!  (Very  loud)  and  I  am 
free !  and  I  defy  you  to  rob  me  of  my  Jesus  I"  (in  a  yell) . 

He  then  proceeds  to  remark  that  we  are  all  "hell 
hounds,"  "liars,"  "rogues,"  and  that  he  puts  me  espe- 
cially under  his  feet  (metaphorically  speaking).  I  have 
endured  this  sort  of  thing  until  I  am  tired  of  it.  If  Wil- 
cox were  really  deranged  I  should  not  care  for  any- 
thing he  said;  but  it  does  provoke  me  to  be  annoyed 
and  insulted  by  this  creature,  who  would  be  cured  of  his 
insanity  by  less  than  30  lashes. 

March  19th.  "The  Shepherd,"  seeing  two  of  the 
patients  talking  together  and  laughing,  ran  towards 
them  and  shaking  his  fists,  desired  personally  to  chas- 
tise them  for  laughing  at  him;  but  as  this  was  not  in 
keeping  with  his  religious  professions  I  thought  proper 
to  stop  it.  It  will  be  shame  to  turn  this  scoundrel  loose 
on  the  world ;  yet  he  will  be  pardoned  without  a  doubt. 

Four  Ku  Klux  from  S.  C.  (Saunders,  Warlock,  Car- 
roll and  McCulloch)  were  released  today  on  the  Presi- 
dent's so-called  pardon.  They  had  less  than  two  months 
yet  to  serve!  Here  we  have  the  key  to  their  release. 
The  Administration,  after  holding  these  poor  men  to 
the  very  close  of  their  term,  grants  them  a  pardon,  and 


348  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  fact  is  heralded  all  over  the  country  as  an  act  of 
clemency!  And  the  Mongrels,  no  doubt,  will  lay  claim 
to  gratitude  of  these  injured  men,  for  "getting  them 
out."  Bah!  If  I  am  held  to  the  last  few  months  of  my 
term,  the  Government  need  not  trouble  itself  to  issue 
a  "pardon"  for  me. 

March  20th.  To  my  great  satisfaction  we  got  rid  of 
Wilcox  this  afternoon;  he  being  marched  down,  and 
locked  up  in  a  cell  in  the  "Wing"  of  the  Female  Depart- 
ment, where  are  other  lunatics,  and  where  he  will  have 
much  different  treatment  than  he  had  here.  If  a  couple 
of  weeks  in  his  new  quarters  does  not  restore  him  to 
sanity,  I  am  mistaken.  And  now  I  must  regret  that  I 
have  given  this  fellow  so  much  notice  in  my  journal; 
but  it  goes  to  show  how  our  lives  here  are  reduced  to 
petty  affairs ;  which  become  important  from  the  paucity 
of  incident  in  our  daily  experience.  To  a  person  confined 
to  bed  it  is  a  noticeable  occurrence  when  the  clock  on 
the  mantelpiece  happens  to  strike  out  of  time.  So  we 
observe,  and  are  pleased  or  irritated  by  trivialities  of 
almost  as  little  importance.  A  true  account  of  prison 
life  is  made  up  of  trifles. 

March  21st.  Snow  10  inches  deep  and  still  falling. 
Spring  where  are  you?  I  began  this  day  early,  having 
been  awakened  at  2  A  .M.  to  superintend  the  "laying 
out,"  of  Carter,  a  negro  who  drew  his  last  breath  a  few 
minutes  earlier.  He  had  been  failing  for  some  time 
(consumption)  but  was  not  considered  in  danger  al- 
though I  appointed  a  man  to  sit  up  with  him  last  night. 
It  was  lucky  I  did  so  for  the  darkey  died  while  on  stool. 
In  the  adjoining  bed  is  another  negro,  going  with  the 
same  disease.  These  black  rascals  from  about  Washing- 
ton and  from  farther  South,  usually  come  here  with 
some  disgusting  venereal  disease,  upon  which  the  change 
of  climate  acts  with  the  effect  to  throw  it  into  the  sys- 
tem, and  results  in  consumption,  or  some  bronchial  com- 
plaint— fatal  almost  without  exception.  I  wonder  that 
some  negro  lover  has  not  gotten  hold  of  this  fact,  and 
made  a  Jeremiad  of  it,  to  add  to  the  "Book  of  Nigger." 
"Southern  darkeys  ought  not  to  be  sent  to  the  Peniten- 
tiary to  die!"  Let  this  be  the  cry,  and  the  lucky  man 


The  Shotwell  Papers  349 

who  starts  it  can  have  a  statue  in  Boston,  only  he  should 
not  say  "darkeys"  but,  "Southern  colored  gentlemen." 
Apropos  of  these  frequent  deaths,  I  am  disposed  to 
think  the  hospital  of  a  Penitentiary  is  about  as  effectual 
as  a  battlefield  for  hardening  one's  feelings  respecting 
the  dead.  Seeing  so  many  degraded  wretches  die,  and 
commonly  with  attendant  circumstances  having  a  tend- 
ency to  diminish  the  natural  instincts  of  awe  and  com- 
passion, we  become  so  accustomed  to  the  death  bed,  that 
the  sight  of  a  stiffening  corpse  calls  up  scarcely  a  serious 
thought.  It  is  not  good  for  men  to  be  thus  calloused. 
Reverence  for  the  dead  is  an  essential  feeling  in  all 
genuine  piety;  and  when  a  man  has  lost  all  concern  for 
the  great  mystery  of  Death  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to 
look  for  the  external  practices  of  Religion  in  his  con- 
duct. 

March  22nd.  Snowing  in  the  morning — making  the 
50th  snow  storm  this  winter;  which  I  learn  from  the 
[cut  out]  prisoners  here,  who  never  fail  to  acquaint  the 
[cut  out]  falls. 

March  23rd.  Arose  a  [cut  out]  didn't  come.  Every- 
body [cut  out]  except  myself.  I  know  not  how  to 
[cut  out]  ther  and  brothers,  who,  at  least,  ought  [cut 
out]  As  for  those  who  were  once  pie  [cut  out]  ve  ceased 
to  feel  wounded  at  ther  [cut  out]  er  forget  them;  and  to 
help  me  remember  I  make  this  note. 

Old  'Squire  Brown  usually  receives  from  2  to  6  let- 
ters per  week,  which  shows  that  the  South  Carolina  peo- 
ple are  more  independent,  and  undaunted  than  their 
North  Carolina  brethren  of  the  Klan.  I,  however,  knew 
that  before.  But  unfortunately  the  'Squire's  letters  to- 
day bring  him  bad  news.  His  Mis-Representative  in 
Congress,  A.  S.  Wallace,  (who  very  likely  is  secretly 
opposing  Brown's  release,  as  they  were  strongly  op- 
posed in  several  political  campaigns )  now  declares  pub- 
licly that  "Nothing  less  than  two  years  will  do  him 
(Brown)  any  good/'  Thus  this  political  demagogue, 
who  has  done  all  he  can  to  subject  his  neighbors  and  fel- 
low citizens  to  the  domination  of  the  ignorant  and 
brutal  negroes,  now  seeks  to  keep  a  grey  haired  man 
for  years  in  a  distant  penitentiary  merely  to  gratify 


350  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

some  old  political  grudge!  I  told  Brown  some  time  ago 
that  he  would  not  get  home  until  he  abased  himself, 
and  fairly  crawled  to  the  feet  of  Wallace,  and  so  it 
seems  likely  to  turn  out. 

But  this  news  is  not  much  better  for  me;  because  if 
the  old  man  is  forced  to  grovel  in  the  dust,  confessing 
himself  a  sinner  and  begging  pardon,  I  shall  (or  should) 
have  to  do  worse  (which  I  wont) . 

March  26th.  Wilcox,  the  pretended  maniac,  was 
pardoned  today.  So,  another  mail  robber  is  out. 

Mar.  27th.  Very  cold  and  blustery.  Printing 
Hymns  to  hang  up  in  the  Chapel. 

March  29th.  March  didn't  come  in  like  a  lamb  but 
is  certainly  marching  out  like  a  lion.  I  am  glad  to  learn 
that  R.  S.  Gray  of  Alabama  was  released  a  few  days 
ago.  He  was  one  of  Dick  Busteed's  victims;  and  was 
sentenced  for  ten  years.  His  release  at  this  early  date 
shows  that  even  his  enemies  acknowledge  the  wrong 
which  was  done  him.  They  know  very  well  that  he  and 
all  the  other  Ku  Klux  were  convicted,  by  the  govern- 
ment, not  as  a  punishment  for  crime,  but  to  carry  out 
certain  electioneering  arrangements.  The  desired  end 
having  been  accomplished  the  victims  are  to  be  gradu- 
ally released  except  those  whose  further  detention  is 
requested  by  their  Mongrel  neighbors.  This  is  the  truth 
and  nothing  but  the  truth  about  the  matter. 

March  30th.  My  disappointment  this  morning  is 
inexpressible.  Brown  has  several  letters,  but  nothing 
new  except  a  cheque  for  $25  sent  him  by  a  friend.  I 
would  be  thankful  for  a  letter  without  money. 

April  1st.  B.  Strickland  (Spartanburg,  S.  C.)  was 
pardoned  yesterday.  He  had  only  about  30  days  to 
serve!  Such  is  Grant's  clemency! 

Eo.  die.  Jno.  Montgomery  and  S.  Childers  just  re- 
leased. Had  about  3  months  to  serve!  Small  thanks 
should  I  give  for  a  pardon  issued  at  this  Eleventh 
Hour. 

April  3rd.     [cut  out] 

April  4th.  Our  surgeon  was  yesterday  in  the  coun- 
try to  the  northward  of  Albany  and  found  the  roads 


The  Shotwell  Papers  351 

cut  through  immense  snow  drifts,  40  feet  deep.  The  ice 
in  the  river  is  frozen  to  the  bottom,  16  feet.1 

We  have  now  in  the  hospital  a  young  man  dying  of 
congestion  of  the  lungs.  His  moans  and  groans  robbed 
me  of  sleep  last  night  and  promise  to  repeat  it  tonight. 
Strange  that  all  men  should  cry  "Oh  Lord!"  when  in 
agony. 

Marshall,  a  Virginia  Scalawag  sent  here  for  10  years 
for  mail  robbery,  was  pardoned  today.  The  Govern- 
ment has  not  the  heart  to  hold  a  rogue  or  mail  robber 
in  prison.  But  its  political  opponents  by  scores  are  left 
there  to  rot,  if  they  will. 

April  5th.  Foreseeing  that  a  darkey  (Braden) 
would  die  during  the  night,  I  prepared  to  sit  up  with 
him,  but  he  saved  me  the  trouble  by  dying  before  nine 
o'clock.  This  may  sound  rather  flippantly;  but  really 
the  fellow  was  so  filthy  and  withal  so  impudent,  refus- 
ing to  take  his  medicine,  etc.,  that  I  could  not  feel  any 
sort  of  sympathy  for  or  interest  in  him.  He  was  what 
is  called  an  "army  nigger,"  i.  e.,  has  been  a  Yankee 
soldier;  and  like  all  of  that  class,  was  conceited,  whim- 
sical and  insolent.  "The  colored  troops  fought  nobly" 
was  a  pet  phrase  with  the  Radical  papers  during  the 
war,  although  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  where  the  noble 
fighting  took  place,  but  whatever  their  conduct  then, 
they  have  fought  nobly  ever  since  the  war  in  the  way 
of  murder,  assault  and  battery,  burglary,  arson,  rape, 
and  exploits  of  that  sort.  It  is  a  fact  that  nine  in  ten 
of  the  rascals  (negroes  I  mean)  who  figure  in  our  pub- 
he  courts,  or  are  sent  to  the  Penitentiary  are  graduates 
of  the  "Finest  Army  on  the  Planet."  And  yet,  strange 
to  say,  Gerrit  Smith  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  much  sur- 
prised to  hear  that  there  were  any  negroes  confined 
here !  So  blind  are  these  negro-lovers  to  all  that  pertains 
to  their  blessed  pets. 

I  have  just  had  an  amusing  illustration  of  the  super- 
stition which  prevails  among  the  more  ignorant  con- 
victs. It  has  happened  by  accident  that  three  men  in 

1  Aside  from  the  manifest  inaccuracy  of  the  statement  concerning  the  thick- 
ness of  the  ice,  the  current  New  York  papers  indicate  usual  spring  weather  at 
this  time.  The  Times  of  April  5  mentions  that  the  ice  on  the  upper  Hudson  was 
breaking  up  in  consequence  of  the  warmer  weather.  The  surgeon  must  have  been 
taking  advantage  of  a  Southerner's  unfamiliarity  with  a  Northern  winter. 


352  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

succession  have  died  in  a  certain  bed,  one  of  the  best 
in  the  room.  But  not  one  of  those  convalescents  could 
be  induced  upon  any  consideration  to  sleep  in  it  now! 

I  am  quite  disgusted  when  I  glance  over  my  journal 
and  find  it  a  mere  record  of  time  wasted  in  trifles — petty 
annoyances,  squabbles,  deaths,  disappointments,  etc. 
But  these  are  the  only  incidents  of  our  lives  and  taken 
collectively  will  show  how  grievous  is  the  confinement 
which  imposes  this  monotony  on  us.  They  show,  more- 
over, that  imprisonment  "in  the  penitentiary"  is,  to  a 
well  bred  man,  an  heavier  punishment  than  any  that 
the  despots  of  Europe  ever  invented. 

April  6th.  "Better  bad  news  than  no  news,"  is  a 
saying  I  frequently  have  thought  of  but  never  realized 
until  this  morning.  I  have  just  finished  the  perusal  of 
a  letter  from  my  excellent  friend  Gen.  L.  which  while 
it  depresses  me  exceedingly,  I  am  glad  to  get,  since  it 
will  serve  to  guard  me  against  future  disappointments. 
The  Genl.  writing  from  Butherfordton,  under  date  of 
Mar.  17th  (nearly  three  weeks  ago!)  says: 

I  was  careful  in  all  the  letters  I  wrote  about  you 
to  say  I  was  not  aware  you  denied  belonging  to  the 
Klan,  but  that  beyond  this  you  admitted  no  culpa- 
bility and  therefore  I  am  sure  these  Gentlemen 
in  endeavoring  to  procure  your  release  will  not 
found  their  application  on  any  plea  injurious  to 
your  honor.  They  are  actuated  by  the  kindest  feel- 
ings personally  and  may  use  some  policy  in  your 
case  but  nothing  but  what  is  expedient  and  of  which 
you  would  approve. 

.  .  .  People  who  have  been  wronged  as  you  have 
and  who  have  been  shut  out  from  the  knowledge 
of  the  changes  around  understand  the  movements 
of  the  last  18  months,  the  frequent  excitements  or 
new  subjects  and  therefore  the  apathy  about  issues 
that  are  "past  issues"  to  all  but  those  like  yourself 
who  are  principally  suffering  their  effects.  Yet  I 
am  sure  that  you  are  more  generally  known  and 
your  fate  more  generally  lamented  than  that  of  the 
other  victims.  But  when  released  you  must  not  be 


The  Shotwell  Papers  353 

surprised  to  find  that  the  Ku  Klux  excitement  has 
died  out  and  cannot  be  revived. 

...  I  mention  this  to  show  you  the  temper  of 
the  time.  And  when  you  are  amongst  us  again  I 
recommend  you  to  study  the  aspect  thoroughly 
and  to  make  no  move  at  least  until  you  see  the 
changes  that  have  happened  and  the  worthlessness 
of  the  actors  on  the  public  stage.  I  make  no  doubt 
that  the  efforts  of  the  administration  will  be  di- 
rected towards  having  Grant  in  for  a  3rd  term 
which  of  course  means  the  Presidency  for  life. 
There  is  no  law  against  this  and  nothing  but  decent 
custom  founded  on  Washington's  example.  I  don't 
believe  that  this  will  prove  any  restraint.  Nous  ver- 
rons.  .  .  . 

What  my  friend  says  about  the  apathy,  etc.,  of  the 
people  respecting  the  prisoners  here  and  Ku  Klux  mat- 
ters generally,  is  but  a  confirmation  of  my  apprehen- 
sion on  the  subject.  How  often  have  I  predicted  that 
we  should  be  forgotten  after  the  first  six  months ! 

And  when  obliged  to  choose  between  betraying  my 
friends  or  coming  (and  afterwards  of  staying)  here,  I 
was  very  well  aware  that  the  very  persons  I  befriended, 
would  soon  forget  and  neglect  me,  and  when  the  danger 
had  passed,  would  deny  that  they  owed  any  obligation. 
I  say  I  knew  all  this,  but  'twas  well  to  be  reminded  of 
it  by  so  sincere  and  reliable  a  friend  as  Genl.  L.  Fortu- 
nately I  was  not  guided  in  the  past  by  any  selfish  or 
purely  personal  motive,  and  whatever  be  the  result  of 
my  misfortunes  I  hope  to  retain  the  dignity  of  conscious 
integrity. 

Genl.  encloses  an  Act  of  Amnesty,  recently  passed 
by  the  Legislature  of  N.  C,  which  I  copy  here  for 
preservation.1  It  is  noticeable  that  of  the  eight  secret 
Associations  mentioned  in  the  Bill,  jive  are  Radical,  and 
three  Democratic.  The  five  Radical  Klans  were  in  ex- 
istence long  before  the  Ku  Klux  Klan,  and  their  mem- 
bers committed  "Outrages"  which  no  deed  of  the  Klan 
can  equal  or  compare  to,  yet  there  was  never  a  single 

1  The  text  of  the  act  is  here  omitted. 


354  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Leaguer  brought  to  justice.  No  charge  of  conspiracy 
was  made  against  the  Radical  Klans  and  none  of  their 
members  will  ever  be  sent  to  the  Penitentiary. 

iff  fff  •3ft  lie  ?i? 

The  object  of  this  act  is  to  prevent  a  continuance  of 
the  Ku  Klux  prosecutions  by  the  Mongrels  in  the  State 
courts.  In  South  Carolina  on  the  other  hand  all  the 
recently  pardoned  Ku  Klux  have  been  arrested  and 
thrown  into  jail,  to  be  tried  for  murder,  etc.,  in  the 
state  courts  where  with  negroes  on  the  jury  and  a  scala- 
wag judge  on  the  bench,  there  is  less  hope  of  acquittal 
than  before  Bond.  In  North  Carolina  the  times  seem  to 
be  brightening.  The  Mongrels  have  had  everything  their 
own  way  so  long  that  they  are  growing  tired  of  their 
sport,  or  else  they  consider  they  have  drawn  all  the 
blood  from  the  State,  and  are  now  obliged  to  let  her 
have  a  breathing  spell.  At  all  events  the  Columbia 
Phoenix  contains  the  following,  which  I  am  pleased  to 
hear. 

DISCONTINUANCE  OF  THE  KU  KLUX  CASES 

S.  T.  Carrow,  United  States  Marshal  for  the 
State  of  North  Carolina,  has  issued  instructions 
to  deputy  marshals  not  to  execute  any  more  ca- 
piases or  subpoenas  in  any  cases  wherein  defend- 
ants are  charged  with  violations  of  the  Enforce- 
ment of  Ku  Klux  Act.  Witnesses  are  informed 
that  they  need  not  attend.  This  order  has  been  ex- 
tended by  V.  S.  Lusk,  District  Attorney  for  the 
Western  District  of  North  Carolina,  and  all  per- 
sons summoned,  recognized,  or  otherwise  bound 
to  appear  as  witnesses  at  the  United  States  Cir- 
cuit or  District  Courts,  either  at  Greensboro, 
Statesville  or  Asheville,  against  parties  indicted 
under  this  Act,  are  excused  from  any  further  at- 
tendance, and  discharged  from  any  further  duty  as 
witnesses  in  any  indictments,  unless  resummoned. 
We  hope  that  the  dragonade  is  now  over,  and  that 
the  people  will  be  left  in  peace,  to  follow  their  busi- 
ness and  support  their  families  as  best  they  may. 
The  persecution  has  been  shameful,  and  will  stand 
on  the  page  of  history  to  condemn  the  administra- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  355 

tion  of  President  Grant  long  after  his  name,  which 
but  for  this  stigma,  would  have  been  forgotten  with 
his  inaugurals. 

April  7th.  "Weary,  stale,  flat  and  unprofitable." 
April  8th.  Last  evening  we  had  an  entertainment 
in  the  chapel.  The  lecturer  was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hurlburd 
of  the  Hudson  St.  Methodist  Church,  Albany;  and  his 
sayings  were  entitled  "Summer  Saunterings  in  Eu- 
rope." The  speaker  so  far  as  I  could  judge  at  a  dis- 
tance, is  a  stout,  "muscular  Christian"  style  of  man, 
with  a  full  and  merry  voice,  like  a  tickled  Irishman's. 
His  lecture  was  rather  Irish  too;  and  might  be  appro- 
priately called  "Summer  Skipping  in  Seven  League 
Boots."  He  sailed  over  the  ocean  and  was  sea  sick.  Peo- 
ple who  go  down  for  the  first  time,  to  the  sea  in  ships 
generally  are  sea-sick.  He  landed  at  Dublin,  and  met 
a  "fine  old  Irish  gentleman."  Perhaps  there  are  many 
fine  old  gents  in  Ireland;  but  this  was — accidentally 
happened  to  be,  the  father  of  Capt.  O'Neil  of  the  po- 
lice force  in  Albany.  'Twas  a  most  strange  coincidence. 
Subsequently  Mr.  Hurlburd  and  his  party  visited  the 
Irish  lakes,  and  inquired  for  the  beautiful  Kate  Kear- 
ney, but  could  find  no  female  pretty  enough  to  be  a  de- 
scendant of  Kate's.  He  then  began  to  skip;  first  to  the 
English  Lakes,  then  back  to  Ireland,  then  to  Maggiore 
and  Como,  then  to  the  Highlands,  then  to  Geneva,  then 
to  Wales,  etc.,  etc.,  seven  leagues  at  a  breath.  All  this 
was  interspersed  with  humorous  anecdotes  of  a  rather 
ancient  description,  as  if  he  had  found  a  copy  of  "Joe 
Miller's  Jests,"  and  mistook  it  for  a  recent  publication. 
One  of  his  stories  is  just  a  little  doubtful.  When  he  was 
travelling  in  Ireland  the  party  were  importuned  by 
beggars ;  and  as  he  had  become  tired  of  giving  away  his 
money,  he  galloped  off  at  full  speed.  On  reaching  a  hill- 
top he  looked  back  thinking  he  had  got  rid  of  them  at 
last,  when  lo!  there  was  a  sturdy  fellow  holding  on  by 
the  tail  of  his  mule! 

Now  this  might  have  happened  twice,  but  it  is  a  sin- 
gular coincidence  that  Charles  Lever  in  one  of  his  nov- 
els tells  the  same  story  in  almost  the  same  language. 
Truth  that  moralist's  witticisms  might  have  brought  the 
habit  into  fashion  among  the  beggars  of  Ireland;  but 


356  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

I'm  afraid  the  Reverend  Traveller  drew  this  anecdote 
from  memory  not  from  his  own  experience. 

Be  that  as  it  may  the  subject  matter  of  the  lecture 
was  like  pearls  before  swine  to  the  Penitentiary  audi- 
ence. Not  one  in  a  hundred  of  them  cared  a  picayune 
for  description  of  lake  scenery  and  foreign  travel. 
Nevertheless  after  all  these  critical  remarks  I  must 
admit  that  I  was  interested  and  pleased  by  the  lecture; 
and  unquestionably  Mr.  Hurlburd  is  a  ready  and  en- 
tertaining speaker.  No  doubt  too  the  brevity  of  time 
at  his  command  will  account  for  the  skipping  sketchy 
nature  of  his  address.  Indeed  he  stated  that  he  had 
omitted  much  of  his  discourse.  And  we  would  be  glad 
to  have  the  entertainment  even  if  it  were  much  worse. 
The  Chapel  looks  finely  when  lighted  by  gas  chande- 
liers. 

The  introduction  of  weekly  evening  lectures  during 
the  winter,  is  a  new  feature  in  Penitentiary  manage- 
ment, and  marks  a  great  advance  towards  the  true  re- 
formatory policy.  Let  the  convict  see  that  there  is  a 
wish  to  reform  and  instruct  him  as  well  as  to  punish 
him  for  past  offenses;  let  him  understand  that  though 
punished,  'tis  a  just  reward  of  their  lawlessness  and  not 
from  any  base  desire  of  revenge ;  let  him  feel  that  though 
in  a  penitentiary,  all  the  manhood  is  not  to  be  crushed 
out  of  him,  and  I  venture  to  say  he  will  be  easier  man- 
aged, and  will  leave  the  prison  a  better  man  than  when 
he  entered. 

Apropos  of  this  subject,  I  had  a  conversation  re- 
cently with  our  chaplain,  and  suggested  to  him  the 
organization  of  a  "Prison  Association"  for  this  par- 
ticular institution.  There  is  a  State  Association  but  it 
is  not  very  energetically  conducted  and  I  doubt  if  one 
in  a  hundred  of  the  discharged  prisoners  are  aware  that 
there  is  such  an  aid,  nor  where  it  may  be  found,  if  they 
knew  it.  Now  the  great  benefits  to  the  State,  to  society, 
and  to  the  convicts  themselves,  that  such  an  Associa- 
tion is  capable  of  doing,  if  rightly  managed,  are  not 
easily  to  be  described. 

When  we  reflect  upon  the  thousands  upon  thousands 
convicted  in  our  courts  from  year  to  year;  and,  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  357 

hundreds  of  thousands  of  guilty  persons,  who  escape 
conviction,  it  is  strange  that  we  have  not  more  pity  and 
forbearance  for  those  who  fall  as  it  were  by  accident 
in  paths  where  our  own  feet  may  have  often  inclined, 
aye,  and  been  nearer  stumbling  than  we  should 
be  willing  publicly  to  confess!  Wolves  and  dogs  some- 
times turn  upon  a  wounded  comrade  and  tear  him  in 
pieces.  But  men,  equally  as  cruel  and  unjust  go  farther 
and  compel  their  hurt  companion  to  destroy  himself. 

April  10th.  For  a  long  time  I  have  been  desirous 
of  getting  some  writing  paper  to  prepare  an  article  or 
two  for  the  magazines ;  that  I  might  sell  when  released, 
and  thus  obtain  money  to  pay  my  expenses  home;  but 
have  utterly  failed  before  today  when  the  Deputy 
fetched  me  half  a  dozen  sheets.  I  asked  him  to  purchase 
two  quires.  The  unwillingness  of  the  officers  to  allow 
me  writing  paper  is  unaccountable  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  if  I  desired  to  make  any  improper  use  of  writing 
material  I  have  a  plenty  in  the  leaves  of  this  book  and 
of  the  coarse  book-cover  paper. 

It  may  be  however,  they  wish  to  avoid  the  precedent 
of  permitting  a  prisoner  to  have  paper.  I  am  sure  I 
have  no  desire  to  carry  on  any  clandestine  correspond- 
ence. 

April  13th.  To  my  surprise  I  rec'd  a  letter  this 
morning — three  letters — no  small  event  in  a  life  of  such 
wearisome  placidity  as  mine!  Better  still  they  contain 
encouraging  news;  Genl.  L's.  letter  at  least.  He  says 
that  Capt.  D.  has  been  to  Washington  where  he  had 
Grant's  promise  that  he  would  order  a  pardon  to  be 
issued  for  me  provided  Jim  Justice,  and  United  States 
District  Attorney — Lusk — would  sign  an  application 
for  it.  Lusk  had  been  previously  approached  by  Dur- 
ham and  promised  to  endorse  any  petition  that  Justice 
should  first  sign.  The  latter  offered  to  sign  one;  which 
was  accordingly  drawn  up  and  speedily  received  an 
hundred  or  more  signatures.  "It  simply  asks  your  re- 
lease," says  Gen.  L.  "and  is  not  your  petition  but  ours, 
who  make  it,  and  who  put  our  request  on  no  other 
grounds  than  the  expediency  of  pardon  in  the  case  of 
this  and  all  semi-political  offenses.  It  is  Durham's  be- 


358  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

lief  and  that  of  all  others  that  your  release  will  occur 
in  less  than  a  month.  I  need  not  say  with  what  joy  I 
shall  hear  of  it.  I  wrote  to  Judge  Merrimon  to  remind 
him  of  his  promised  action;  and  Jos.  L.  Carson  has  also 
written  to  him.  He  has  applied  to  a  good  many  in  your 
behalf.  Courage  mon  ami.  tout  va  bienl" 

This  looks  promising  but  promises  are  a  sort  of  po- 
litical mirage,  which  office-holders  create  for  the  decep- 
tion of  their  constituents.  It  may  be  that  I  do  Genl. 
Grant  much  injustice  in  doubting  his  fidelity  to  his 
promise;  but  if  I  do  him  injustice  in  thought,  he  has 
done  me  a  far  more  grievous  injustice  in  deed  by  send- 
ing me  here.  Durham  says  in  his  letter  to  Genl.  L.  that 
he  found  an  unreasonable  prejudice  prevailing  against 
me  in  Washington.  Of  course!  I  have  been  well  aware 
for  years  that  this  unreasonable  and  unjust  prejudice 
— hatred  rather — existed  in  the  Radical  mind  in  those 
circles  where  North  Carolina  Mongrel  influence  is  felt. 
And  with  Ex-Govr.  Holden,  Sam  Phillips,  Jno.  Pool, 
C.  L.  Cobb  in  Washington  there  can  be  no  lack  of  ma- 
licious influence  against  me.. 

Besides  I  do  not  believe  that  either  Justice  or  Lusk 
are  willing  that  I  shall  regain  my  liberty,  of  which  they 
were  actively  instrumental  in  defrauding  me.  They 
might  easily  sign  the  petition,  and  thus  gain  credit  for 
magnanimity  among  decent  men;  while  at  the  same 
time  they  wrote  to  Washington  protesting  against  my 
release.  Gov.  Caldwell  was  once  guilty  of  this  con- 
temptible duplicity  in  the  case  of  Col  B.  S.  Gaither 
and  others.  He  drew  up  a  letter  praying  that  the  dis- 
abilities of  these  gentlemen  should  be  removed  by  Con- 
gress and  took  care  that  they  should  see  the  letter.  But 
privately  he  wrote  denouncing  them  as  violent  Rebels 
who  should  on  no  account  be  cleared  of  their  disabil- 
ities !  His  latest  letter  happened  to  be  read  in  Congress 
by  Senator  Nye,  and  afterwards  appeared  in  the  Con- 
gressional Record,  where  I  saw  it ;  and,  having  heard  of 
Gov.  Caldwell's  villainy,  exposed  it  in  my  Asheville 
paper.  From  that  moment,  Caldwell  was  my  enemy; 
and  during  my  trial  he  sat  at  the  side  of  the  prosecuting 
attorney,  almost  constantly,  and  gave  me  the  impres- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  359 

sion  by  his  scowling  looks  and  occasional  whispers  that 
he  was  lending  "aid  and  comfort"  to  the  enemy.  Think 
of  a  Governor  of  a  State  spending  his  valuable  time 
during  several  successive  days  to  watch  the  persecution 
of  an  half  dozen  of  his  fellow  citizens — poor,  humble, 
and  ignorant  men,  too — before  a  packed  jury  and  a 
corrupt  and  partizan  judge! 

Now  be  the  result  as  it  may,  I  shall  not  forget  by 
whom  I  was  sent  here ;  and  while  I  cherish  no  vindictive 
feelings,  I  shall  run  into  no  rhapsodies  of  gratitude 
for  being  released.  If  Justice  and  Lusk  have  signed  the 
petition  in  sincerity  and  if  I  escape  through  their  in- 
strumentality I  shall  give  them  credit  for  all  they  are 
entitled  to  in  the  matter.  But  as  I  have  said  I  have  no 
faith  in  such  promises. 

Bro.  M.,  and  Jennie  write  kindly;  but  the  latter,  very 
sadly.  Affairs  in  Rutherford  are  not  improving.  Many 
of  the  older  families  are  breaking  up  and  seeking  more 
congenial  climes.  Radicalism,  Loganism  and  Negroism 
have  made  a  Pandemonium  of  their  once  happy  village. 
Erwin  has  removed  the  Vindicator  to  Newton,  and 
Jennie  says  that  my  friends  are  of  opinion  I  ought  to 
re-establish  my  newspaper  at  home.  Nous  verrons. 
Wrote  to  her  and  Bro.  M.  by  return  mail. 

April  14th.  A  convict  attempted  to  commit  suicide 
in  his  cell  last  night  by  eating  a  quantity  of  mercurial 
ointment  given  him  to  banish  vermin  from  his  body. 
The  fellow  has  been  closely  confined  for  some  time, 
as  he  is  or  pretends  to  be  deranged.  He  was  a  soldier, 
tried  by  court  martial  and  sentenced  to  wear  a  ball  and 
chain  for  ten  years ;  but  the  ball  and  chain  was  remitted 
through  the  intercession  of  Genl.  P.  Whether  the  poor 
man  was  guilty  is  hard  to  say,  though  I  am  told  he 
vehemently  protested  his  innocence.  To  be  sure  'tis  no 
new  thing  for  a  prisoner  to  plead  "not  guilty;"  but 
neither  is  it  uncommon  for  courts  martial  to  condemn 
innocent  men.  I  am  satisfied  that  in  this  country  mili- 
tary commissions  are  the  most  ready  engines  of  oppres- 
sion that  can  be  devised ;  they  are  no  more  amenable  to 
Justice  and  impartiality  than  the  maddest  mob,  and 
their  power  for  evil  is  almost  as  great.  I  speak  whereof 


360  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

I  know.  I  have  been  an  officer  myself  and  my  experience 
is  verified  by  my  observation,  if  it  is  not  a  "bull"  to  say 
so.  No  one  who  has  read  the  trials  of  Dr.  Mudd,  Mrs. 
Surratt  and  others,  of  Washington  and  that  of  Major 
Wirz,  and  Champ  Furgeson,  and  Lieut  J.  Y.  Beall, 
and  dozens  of  other  poor  prisoners  whom  this  mighty 
government  has  doomed  to  death,  no  one,  I  say,  can 
read  the  published  report  of  these  trials  without  being 
convinced  that  a  military  court  is  one  sham  tribunal 
into  which  an  half  dozen  prejudiced  and  obsequious 
army  officers  bring  the  sentence  originally  pronounced 
at  Head  Quarters,  utterly  regardless  of  right  or  reason 
in  the  case.  Frequently  the  accused  is  punished  when 
innocent  and  sometimes  is  cleared  when  truly  guilty. 
I  recollect  that  Lieut.  McEwan  told  me  if  I  had  been 
tried  by  court  martial  I  should  certainly  have  been 
hung!  And  after  some  conversation  he  admitted  that 
there  was  nothing  damaging  in  the  evidence  against  me, 
but  everybody  considered  me  the  leader,  etc.  I  answered 
him  with  a  story  of  a  Tennessee  jury.  A  man  was 
charged  with  murder  but  proved  an  alibi  so  clearly  that 
all  the  spectators  thought  the  prosecuting  attorney 
would  drop  the  case.  But  he  was  a  smart  fellow,  and 
had  a  grudge  against  the  prisoner.  So,  after  dinner  he 
came  into  court  with  an  armful  of  books ;  and  very  sol- 
emnly began  to  denounce  the  crime  of  murder;  reading 
from  the  Bible,  and  from  many  old  Reports,  etc.,  to 
show  that  murder  is  so  heinous  a  crime  that  no  mercy 
ought  to  be  granted  the  man  who  had  shed  his  brothers 
blood.  He  kept  this  up  for  three  hours  until  he  had 
utterly  confused  the  heads  of  the  jury  and  finally  closed 
by  saying,  "Now  gentlemen  you  see  how  the  law  stands 
and  are  bound  to  bring  in  this  murderer  guilty,"  etc. 
And  to  the  amazement  of  all,  the  foreman  presently 
returned  with  precisely  that  verdict!  The  Judge  en- 
raged at  such  injustice  ordered  a  new  trial  and  the  man 
was  speedily  acquitted.  Meanwhile  the  prosecutor  said 

to  one  of  the  jurymen,  "Mr. ,  how  in  reason  did 

you  bring  in  such  a  preposterous  verdict?"   "Well," 
replied  the  bright  foreman,  "there  wasn't  much  agin 


The  Shotwell  Papers  361 

the  prisoner  in  the  evidence;  but  the  law  was  so  plaguey 
strong  we  was  obliged  to  hang  him." 

McEwan  then  related  a  case  in  his  own  experience 
in  which  a  soldier  of  his  command  was  tried  by  court 
martial  and  sentence  was  about  to  be  pronounced  when 
he  was  permitted  to  make  some  explanation  which  so 
far  palliated  his  offense  that  he  was  let  off  with  a  repri- 
mand instead  of  being  shot. 

Of  course  in  writing  the  foregoing,  I  am  not  apolo- 
gizing or  defending  the  man  of  whom  I  began  to  write. 
I  merely  give  the  opinion  that  a  sentence  (?)  by  court 
martial  is  not  always  conclusion  of  guilt. 

April  1 7th.     Snowing  all  day !  Lovely  April  weather ! 

Anthony,  Mathis,  and  Moore,  were  pardoned  today. 
All  poor  and  illiterate  men. 

Time  is  hanging  very  heavily  on  my  hands  these 
days.  And  my  mental  miseries  may  not  be  mentioned. 

Today  Captain  P.  passing  through  the  room  with 
some  visitors  remarked,  "That  man  is  in  charge  up 
here."  "Oh  dear!"  thought  I,  "when  shall  I  escape  from 
a  place  where  I  am  pointed  out  to  strangers  as  cthis 
man3  or  'that  man;  or  am  told,  'Shotwell  come  here!' 
or  'Shotwell  go  there!'  " 

Now  I  have  sense  enough  to  know  that  I  was  sent 
here  just  as  a  common  convict  and  therefore  must  ex- 
pect the  same  treatment  as  the  other  inmates  receive. 
But  that  is  no  alleviation  of  my  sufferings  and  morti- 
fication. It  may  make  me  more  patient  in  appearance 
and  conduct;  but  it  does  not  blunt  the  keenness  of  my 
wounded  self-respect.  Let  people  talk  as  they  may  about 
the  support  of  conscious  innocence,  I  am  sure  the  no- 
blest human  that  ever  lived  could  not  undergo  the  daily 
indignities  of  Penitentiary  life  without  being  depressed 
and  heart  sore  beyond  telling.  The  more  high-minded 
and  sensible  the  man,  the  greater  his  sufferings  from 
this  sort  of  annoyance.  It  is  not  the  mere  imprisonment, 
nor  the  privations,  nor  the  isolation  from  society,  that 
affects  me;  it  is  the  degraded  position  I  am  forced  to 
occupy,  and  the  constant  humiliations  arising  from  that 
position.  Daily  I  am  spoken  to,  precisely  as  if  I  were  a 


362  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

slave;  until  I  sometimes  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  hold  my 
head  up  when  I  am  set  free  again. 

April  20th.  Brief  note  from  father,  dated  13th 
gives  anything  but  cheering  intelligence.  McC.  has  not 
been  sent  to  West  Point  which  is  exactly  as  I  expected. 
Father  I  am  sorry  to  hear  is  not  in  good  health,  and 
as  his  letter  shows  is  exceedingly  depressed  for  reasons 
which  I  can  surmise.  I  would  it  were  in  my  power  to 
remedy  some  of  these  matters,  but  it  is  useless  to  grieve 
or  fret  about  it.  Respecting  myself  he  says  that  Jim 
Justice  signed  the  petition  drawn  up  by  my  friends  and 
that  people  believe  me  certain  of  release  in  a  few  days. 
The  petition  does  not  compromise  me  in  any  way,  he 
says.  'Tis  well  it  does  not;  for  I  am  determined  not  to 
yield  one  jot  of  my  honor  and  manhood  if  I  never  get 
out  of  prison. 

To  add  to  the  unpleasant  effect  of  father's  letter,  I 
rec'd  one  from  Aunt  Susie,  also;  who  after  some  ex- 
travagant assurances  of  affectionate  sympathy,  pro- 
ceeds to  lament  my  Southern  birth,  my  connection  with 
the  Klan,  etc.,  etc.,  with  that  persistency  of  harping  on 
a  single  string,  that  characterizes  many  of  the  fair  sex. 
She  tells  of  a  friend  of  hers,  a  minister  living  South, 
who  was  threatened,  and  whose  daughter  actually  had 
to  make  soldiers'  caps  during  the  war!  Just  as  if  there 
were  not  thousands  of  men  abused  and  injured  because 
they  were  opposed  to  the  war  up  North!  I  could  relate 
to  her  some  anecdotes  of  persecution  and  mob  violence 
which  occurred  in  Media  and  Phila.  before  I  went 
South,  that  would  cap  the  very  best  of  her  stories.  But 
what  can  I  reply  to  such  a  malicious  lie,  as  that  she 
was  told  by  Wm.  D wight,  i.  e.,  that  a  Northern  man  in 
North  Carolina  was  called  into  an  hotel  by  persons  in 
disguise — told  that  he  must  retract  his  opinions  or  die, 
and  on  his  refusal,  had  his  throat  cut  from  ear  to  earl 
The  murderers  only  allowed  him  to  go  to  a  window  to 
see  his  little  child  playing  in  the  yard,  before  they  sev- 
ered his  "jugular."  She  does  not  say  that  the  Ku  Klux 
then  drank  his  blood  but  that  we  may  (if  we  choose) 
add  to  the  story. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  363 

Now  in  the  name  of  common  sense  how  can  intelligent 
people  believe  such  monstrous  canards,  which  fairly 
disgrace  human  nature?  It  seems  to  me  these  abomi- 
nable lies  ought  to  refute  themselves  at  the  bare  recital. 
And  yet  I  daresay  the  whole  Yankee  nation  has  heard, 
and  credited  this  identical  story,  and  perhaps  many 
others  of  even  greater  atrocity! 

But  possibly  it  may  all  turn  out  for  the  best.  Let 
this  sort  of  defamation,  and  unceasing  misrepresenta- 
tion continue ;  let  the  government  be  encouraged  by  the 
popular  voice  to  heap  fresh  and  increasing  oppression — 
still  heavier  burdens — on  the  Southern  people;  let  lib- 
erty be  taken  away  from  the  whites  that  political  su- 
premacy may  accrue  to  the  negroes;  let  all  honorable 
men  in  the  South  feel  themselves  at  the  mercy  of  the  vile 
local  agents  of  the  Administration;  let  things  go  on  as 
they  have  been  going  for  half  a  dozen  years ;  and  mark 
the  consequences !  Sooner  or  later  the  opportunity  will 
come  when  the  South  may  throw  off  her  yoke  if  she  will. 
And  then  the  smouldering  resentment  of  years  will 
spontaneously  kindle  the  fires  of  strife  such  as  America 
has  never  seen — black  as  is  her  record.  Then,  when 
the  North  is  divided,  and  hostile  fleets  sweeping  her 
coasts,  with  fire  and  sword,  the  "Southern  cross"  will 
blaze  in  the  Heavens,  and  a  fearful  debt  will  be  paid 
in  blood  of  our  enemies.  J  do  not  wish  this  day  may 
ever  come;  I  love  the  Union,  and  am  proud  of  the 
name  of  American  Citizen"  but  I  hate  and  despise 
those  who  are  leading  public  opinion  in  the  North;  in 
approbation  of  the  detestable  despotism  of  the  present 
administration.  And  every  day  is  making  me  more 
and  more  willing  to  resume  the  sword.  Only  a  day 
or  two  ago  I  found  the  following  slip  of  an  article  I 
wrote  for  the  Newbern  Times  in  1865,  just  after  the 
War.     If  my  sentiments  are  changed,  'tis  not  my  fault. 

The  War,  with  all  its  terrible  drama  of  marches, 
battles,  victories  and  retreats,  has  been  numbered 
with  the  past.  The  thunder  of  artillery — the  crash 
of  musketry — the  sharp  crack  of  the  skirmisher's 
rifle,  and  the  steady  tread  of  troops  marching  to 
battle,  are  heard  no  more  in  our  land.     Our  lines 


364  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

are  broken,  our  flag  lowered  and  furled,  and  with 
sorrowful  hearts  we  have  turned  back  from  the 
hill  sides  we  went  forth  to  defend.  Alas !  there  are 
many  who  cannot  return.  The  shadow  of  death 
has  entered  the  door  of  many  a  homestead,  and  the 
vacant  chair  in  the  fire-side  circle  marks  the  spot 
where  once  sat  a  form  that  perchance  now  sleeps 
in  a  grave  whose  only  monument  is  the  dark-hued 
grass  his  blood  has  enriched. 

But  we  have  accepted  the  fiat  of  events.  Firm- 
ly and  resolutely  we  made  the  arbitrament  of  the 
sword,  and  yielding  to  its  decision  we  have  ever 
endeavored  to  comply  with  the  requirements  of  our 
new  position.  Yet,  while  we  shall  never,  by  word 
or  deed,  encourage  a  renewal  of  strife  in  our  land, 
we  feel  that  the  disinterested  self-abnegation  that 
led  so  many  thousands  of  our  boyhood's  friends  to 
sacrifice  their  lives  for  a  cause  we  called  our  own, 
deserves  the  sorrowful  reverence  of  every  Southern 
heart. 

April  21st,  I  often  blush  for  the  letters  of  my  Ku 
Klux  comrades  which  I  see  each  week,  and  cannot  help 
feeling  mortified  to  find  myself  in  such  company,  not- 
withstanding they  are  not  acquaintances  of  mine,  and 
all  of  different  grade  of  society.  But  this  week's  mail 
is  peculiarly  rich  in  odd  and  illiterate  expressions.  One 
K.  K.  rejoices  to  learn  that  his  wife  is  "fat  as  a  pig  and 
purty  as  a  pink,  and  Oh  hunny}  how  Td  like  to  squeeze 
yon!3  Poor  fellow,  he  is  badly  off  no  doubt !  Another, 
sends  his  "best  respects  to  all  the  nabers"  Another 
wishes  his  brother,  "Tomus"  to  write  him,  and  let  him 
know  if  "the  guse  hangs  hy"  Another  invariably  calls 
his  wife  "Lizziean"  meaning  I  suppose,  Lizzie  Ann, 
etc.,  etc.  Nearly  all  "wright"  letters.  And  it  is  upon 
this  class  of  ignoramuses  that  the  government  conde- 
scends to  pour  out  the  vials  of  its  wrath!  imprisoning 
them  with  the  intent  to  intimidate  the  more  intelligent 
people  of  the  South. 

Have  just  seen  Capt.  P.,  who  relieves  me  of  some 
anxiety  by  promising  to  have  me  provided  with  shoes, 
etc.,  if  I  should  be  pardoned;  and  that  he  will  do  what  he 


The  Shotwell  Papers  365 

can  to  assist  me  in  carrying  out  some  other  private  ar- 
rangements I  have  in  view.  He  doubts,  however, 
whether  I  shall  be  released  as  soon  as  my  friends  ex- 
pect, because  it  is  reported  at  Washington  that  no  more 
K.  K.  are  to  be  pardoned  for  some  time.  I  am  en- 
tirely of  his  opinion;  notwithstanding  Grant's  promise 
to  Plato  Durham. 

April  22nd.  Williams,  negro,  died  this  morning. 
Yesterday  I  predicted  his  death  in  24  hours,  and  told 
him  he  had  better  get  his  thoughts  in  good  order  for  the 
business.  "Yes,  I  guess  I'm  'bout  played  out" — said 
he,  and  ate  a  very  hearty  breakfast — to  march  on  I 
suppose.  His  lungs  were  congested  or  one  was;  the 
other  being  entirely  gone.  For  several  days  the  pul- 
sations of  his  heart  were  all  on  his  right  side. 

Having  no  more  serious  cases  in  hospital  we  shall 
now  get  a  little  sleep. 

April  24th.  Deputy  gave  me  the  match  board  to 
fix.  I  fixed  it  well,  neatly  and  correctly.  When  I 
carried  it  to  him,  he  said  "Why  did  you  not  bring  it  to 
me  before  you  finished  it  ?  You  ought  not  to  have  fixed 
it  till  I  told  you  to,"  etc.,  etc.  Now  in  this  matter  I  was 
not  in  the  least  in  the  wrong,  for  I  had  been  told  to  do 
a  certain  thing,  and  I  had  done  it.  I  was  not  told  to 
wait  for  further  instructions;  and  it  is  not  discovered 
that  I  have  made  any  mistakes.  But  as  there  is  a  pos- 
sibility of  some  slight  error,  I  was  thus  censured  for  not 
calling  on  some  of  the  officers  to  inspect  my  work.  I 
feel  that  this  is  unjust  to  me;  but  the  censure  and  mor- 
tification of  being  roughly  reprimanded  is  none  the  less 
galling  because  undeserved.  I  am  aware  that  it  is  un- 
wise to  yield  to  irritation  from  such  a  source  but  I  can- 
not help  it.  I  should  prefer  a  blow,  when  free,  to  an 
insult,  when  unable  to  resent  it. 

April  27th.  Usual  Sunday  morning  disappointment. 
Very  blue  all  day.  Brown  has  a  letter  containing  a 
confirmation  of  the  ill  tidings  concerning  the  intention 
of  the  Administration  to  issue  no  more  pardons  to  the 
Ku  Klux  for  some  time.  The  organ  of  the  Cabinet 
at  Washington,  on  the  9th  inst.  announced  that  no  more 
pardons  would  at  present,  be  granted  to  the  K.  K.  pris- 


366  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

oners  at  Albany,  as  they  were  "convicted  of  direst  com- 
plicity in  the  deeds  of  the  Klan  and  while  it  is  the  in- 
tention of  the  President  sooner  or  later  to  pardon  all 
the  prisoners  convicted  under  the  enforcement  act,  he 
does  not  deem  it  proper  to  extend  to  this  class  Execu- 
tive clemency  until  they  have  realized  by  imprisonment 
that  the  government  is  determined  to  enforce  law  and 
order  in  every  section  of  the  land!!!" 

It  is  hard  to  do  justice  to  such  a  piece  of  base  fabri- 
cation as  the  foregoing.  It  may  well  excite  the  deepest 
indignation  in  the  breasts  of  all  who  know  the  truth 
of  the  matter.  Here  are  many  prisoners — dozens  per- 
haps— who  were  not  even  charged  in  their  indictment 
with  any  overt  act  of  Ku  Kluxism ;  but  merely  of  having 
at  one  time  belonged  to  the  order.  Five  men  I  can 
name;  Brown,  aged  62,  charged  with  being  a  member 
of  the  Order  (which  he  was  not) ;  Scruggs,  aged  50, 
charged  with  lending  his  gun  to  a  party  who  demanded 
it;  DePriest,  who  was  not  on  the  "Raid"  but  said  he 
would  like  to  go;  Rev.  John  S.  Ezell,  66,  who  was  a 
member  of  the  Order,  but  opposed  to  violence;  Geo. 
Holland,  who  was  not  on  the  Raid  but  knew  of  it,  etc., 
etc.  How  many  others  there  are  here,  who  are  free  from 
"actual  complicity"  in  the  deeds  of  the  Klan,  I  know 
not;  but  as  there  are  about  40  Ku  Klux  prisoners,  be- 
sides these,  I  am  satisfied  that  a  dozen  or  more  of  similar 
cases  could  be  picked  out.  And  yet  Grant  tells  the  world 
that  he  has  pardoned  all  but  the  actual  participants  in 
the  so-called  "outrages,"  and  that  the  remainder  must 
lay  in  prison  until  they  realize  that  the  government  is 
determined  to  enforce  the  law! 

Now  the  object  of  this  announcement  is  very  plain; 
the  President  takes  credit  for  having  pardoned  all  who 
are  worthy  of  pardon.  He  deceives  the  North  with  the 
idea  that  none  but  violent  desperadoes  are  still  im- 
prisoned; while  at  the  same  time  he  discourages  our 
friends  in  the  South,  from  making  any  effort  in  our  be- 
half. "And  they  will  all  be  pardoned,  after  while,  with- 
out our  intercession,"  they  say. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  367 

In  all  this  we  see  verified  a  remark  of  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  that  Imprisonment  is  the  safest,  most  quiet, 
most  convenient,  and  often  the  most  cruel  punishment  an 
Oppressor  can  inflict.  "The  Prisoner'3  he  says  "is 
silently  hid  from  the  public  eye;  his  sufferings  being 
unseen  speedily  cease  to  excite  pity  or  indignation,  and 
he  is  soon  doomed  to  oblivion." 

Sir  James  might  have  added  that  the  oppressor  has 
it  in  his  power  to  justify  and  commend  his  own  cruelty 
by  calumniating  and  misrepresenting  his  victim.  The 
prisoner  is  voiceless,  while  the  government  commands 
its  agents  to  disseminate  falsehoods,  which  an  obse- 
quious partizan  press  takes  care  to  impress  upon  public 
opinion.  The  history  of  the  Radical  Administration, 
beginning  in  1861,  is  full  of  instances  of  this  sort.  Men 
have  been  arrested  by  Seward's  "little  bell;"  or  Stan- 
ton's detectives;  or  Grant's  artillerymen;  and  having 
been  tried  by  courts  martial,  special  commissions,  or  the 
sham  tribunals  called  "Federal"  Courts,  have  been  hur- 
ried away  to  linger  for  years  in  the  dungeons  of  North- 
ern forts,  or  die  upon  the  feverish  sand  of  the  Dry  Tor- 
tugas;  while  the  government  took  good  care  to  explain 
each  step  of  its  iniquitous  proceedings  to  be  necessary 
and  entirely  justifiable.  The  victims  can  only  say  like 
Emmet, "let  no  man  write  our  epitaphs  until  our  coun- 
try is  free." 

History  to  be  useful,  must  be  true  and  this  can  hardly 
be  said  where  rolls  and  records  speak  not  truth  but  false- 
hood; and  where  contemporary  history  is  written  after 
bloody  conflicts  when  one  party  is  reduced  to  silence, 
and  the  other  possessed  of  every  organ  of  publicity, 
makes  it  to  suit  his  own  views:  when  the  writer  is  he 
whom  the  spoil  has  enriched,  and  the  hand  that  guides 
the  pen  is  red  with  the  blood  of  the  calumniated  victim. 
Then  vae  victis:  then  venal  tongues  and  mercenary  pens 
will  herald  forth  the  triumphs  of  successful  wrong,  and 
the  name  of  the  patriot  who  felt  and  bled  and  dared  for 
his  country  will  be  consigned  to  obloquy  or  oblivion: 
none  will  then  dare  to  breathe  his  name,  nor  throw  a 
flower  on  his  silent  grave,  till  Time  the  great  detector, 
brings  truth  to  light,  restores  to  virtue  her  true  lustre, 


368  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

and  to  humanity  the  most  precious  of  her  interests,  the 
heart  stirring  and  inspiring  examples  of  generous  mar- 
tyrs, whom  in  the  gloomiest  seasons  of  their  country's 
fortunes,  bribe  could  not  tempt,  nor  torture  move,  nor 
Death's  worst  terrors  daunt." 

April  28th.  Deputy  came  up  and  demanded  to 
know  what  I  had  done  with  two  stamped  envelopes.  I 
said  I  hadn't  had  but  50,  and  those  I  sent  down.  He 
looked  at  me  for  a  minute  and  then  said  "Well  I  sup- 
pose I  must  have  made  a  miscount."  But  there  was 
something  insinuating  in  the  tone  that  made  me  miser- 
able for  hours  afterwards.  As  if  I  would  steal  an  en- 
velope! I  do  not  know  that  there  was  any  intention  to 
wound  my  feelings;  but  the  remark  was  successful 
whether  or  no. 

April  30th.  Today  expires  the  month  allowed  to 
Durham  for  my  release ;  and  here  I  am.  Got  up  in  a  bad 
humor,  and  didn't  improve  all  day,  which  was  silly  but 
natural. 

May  1st.  Much  disturbed  during  night  by  ravings 
of  maniac  brought  in  yesterday.  I  have  learned  a  va- 
riety of  lessons  since  I  lost  my  liberty,  but  this  business 
of  looking  after  crazy  people  is  a  little  worse  than  any. 

*****  *i 

May  2nd.  Sat  up  last  night  with  Pat  Hoy,  a  sick 
Irishman.  His  time  expires  on  Monday,  and  I  was  in- 
structed to  give  him  as  much  stimulant  as  he  could 
stand,  to  keep  him  up  if  possible.  But  'twas  a  lame  race. 
Death  came  in  ahead  this  morning  about  daylight.  His 
sister  wrote  him  last  mail,  telling  him  how  they  had  new 
clothes  ready  for  him,  and  intended  to  make  merry  over 
him,  etc.  Their  joy  will  be  painfully  disappointed  to- 
morrow, when  "Poor  dear,  dear  Pat"  is  carried  home  in 
his  coffin.  Some  of  his  friends  here  took  him  away  this 
morning.  Many  of  the  convicts  complain  that  they  (the 
sick)  are  left  in  their  cells  until  just  about  to  die,  before 
they  are  brought  up  to  the  hospital.  Complaints  of 
course  would  be  made  if  the  prisoners  were  supplied 
with  every  luxury.  But  I  must  think  that  there  is  some- 

1  A  discussion  of  Dixon's  "Life  of  Lord  Bacon"  is  omitted. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  369 

thing  wrong  or  there  would  not  be  so  many  fatal  cases. 
Fourteen  men  have  died  in  about  five  months,  which  is 
an  average  of  nearly  one  per  week,  from  a  whole  number 
of  near  500  men. 

Raining,  damp,  and  disagreeable  all  day.  Have 
thought  of  (Hari  Kari). 

May  4th.  It  would  be  hard  to  describe  my  feelings 
this  morning,  and  perhaps  they  would  be  very  little  to 
my  credit  were  they  known.  Hence  I  shall  only  say  that 
I  am  realizing  the  truth  of  the  old  saying,  "Dead  or  in 
prison  soon  forgotten."  It  is  but  natural  that  men  who 
have  been  sent  to  antipodes,  and  cut  off  from  communi- 
cation with  their  people  should  gradually  drop  out  of 
the  public  mind,  but  to  be  utterly  neglected  by  relatives 
and  friends  so  soon  is  hard.1 

May  6th.  For  a  number  of  days  I  have  employed 
my  leisure  in  composing  short  articles  and  miscellany 
to  sell  when  released,  but  can  get  no  paper  on  which  to 
copy  them.  Such  are  the  trivial  annoyances  that  go  to 
make  up  the  dreadful  whole  of  Penitentiary  life.  And 
the  nerves  having  become  shattered  and  unstrung  by 
long  confinement,  renders  one  more  than  naturally  fret- 
ful about  such  trifling  deprivations. 

Chaplain  Reynolds  has  just  fetched  me  two  quires  of 
paper,  on  which  he  desires  me  to  write  another  batch  of 
letters  for  the  Albany  Agency  of  the  State  "Prison  As- 
sociation" of  which  he  is  corresponding  secretary.  I  am 
not  willing  to  do  anything  to  help  forward  this  work, 
because  I  am  satisfied  that  only  a  small  proportion  of 
the  discharged  convicts  would  return  to  their  former 
haunts  of  vice,  if  they  had  immediate  and  remunerative 
employment  elsewhere.  See  my  views  on  this  subject 
on  page  356. 

May  8th.  Somewhat  indisposed;  and  decidedly  out 
of  spirits.  Raining  and  very  gloomy. 

May  10th.  This  day  is  generally  observed  in  the 
South  as  a  memorial  occasion  for  the  decoration  of  the 
graves  of  the  Confederate  dead;  a  beautiful  custom 
which  I  trust  may  continue,  at  least  until  the  South  es- 

1  This  paragraph  is  crossed  out  in  the  manuscript. 


370  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

capes  from  her  oppressors  and  thoroughly  vindicates 
her  fallen  sons.  May  the  day  soon  come. 

The  Chaplain  came  in  to  get  the  letters  I  wrote,  and 
brought  bad  news.  There  have  been  political  troubles  in 
Louisiana,  and  the  government  is  sending  troops  there 
rapidly.  Reported  that  300  negroes  were  shut  up  in  a 
barn  and  burned!  So  much  for  the  Radical  rumors  of 
the  affair. 

Now  even  Mr.  Reynolds,  Abolitionist  and  Radical, 
as  he  is,  doubts  the  truth  of  these  telegraphic  dispatches ; 
but  more  prejudiced  and  less  intelligent  minds  all  over 
the  North  will  accept  them  for  facts,  and  thus  the  hos- 
tility to  the  South  will  be  inflamed,  and  the  growing 
sentiment  of  the  country  in  favor  of  peace,  and  the  res- 
toration of  Southern  liberties  will  be  checked.  And  in- 
directly this  affair  will  affect  us:  for  the  government 
can  excuse  itself  for  holding  us,  asserting  that  the  Ku 
Klux  are  "still  murdering  Union  citizens  in  the  South." 
So  marches  the  coming  man! 

May  11th.  Exceedingly  dark  and  gloomy.  Reed,  a 
very  affectionate  note  from  Bro.  M.  to  which  I  reply, 
"Nothing  you  can  think  of  will  be  stale  to  me.  I  doubt 
if  you  will  ever  experience  the  soul-thirst  the  perpetual 
craving  for  something  to  break  the  monotony  of  ideas 
which  becomes  habitual  to  an  intelligent  prisoner.  For 
six  weeks  I  have  not  had  a  line  save  yours  from  any 
quarter,  and  I  have  sunk  to  that  condition  which  Sidney 
Smith  terms  a  'state  of  suspended  vitality.'  I  live, 
move,  and  eat  my  rations,  but  this  told,  you  have  the 
sum  of  my  existence  .  .  .  etc." 

Accompanying  this  I  sent  a  letter  to  Genl.  L.  as  fol- 
lows: 

"Dear  Genl.  Your  kind  letters  of  17th  and  31st 
March  were  so  full  of  sympathy  and  good  cheer 
that  I  could  not  but  feel  comforted  by  them,  al- 
though I  cannot  think  my  liberation  so  near  at 
hand  as  is  believed  at  R.  For  2  or  3  weeks  I  kept 
my  trunks  packed  and  paid  great  attention  to  hav- 
ing my  horses  shod  (at  least  I  asked  for  a  pair  of 
shoes)  in  expectation  of  receiving  orders  to  march 
at  a  moment's  warning.  In  the  meantime  I  lived 


The  Shotwell  Papers  371 

on  Hope;  a  very  light  diet  after  the  2nd  week.  At 
length,  however,  the  dream  is  at  an  end  and  I  am 
full  of  disgust  with  myself  for  dreaming  with  my 
eyes  open.  Was  it  Chateaubriand  who  said  'Ues- 
perance  tient  lieu  des  biens  quelle  prometV  If  so, 
he  didn't  know  anything  about  it.  The  true  policy 
(for  one  in  my  situation,  at  least)  is  Nil  admirari, 
and  be  hanged  to  them ! 

You  are  aware  I  suppose  that  the  administra- 
tion organ  at  Washington  announces  that  the  govt, 
has  exhausted  its  stock  of  clemency,  that  all  the 
prisoners  have  been  pardoned  except  a  few  desper- 
ate characters  who  were  actual  participants  in  the 
so-called  'outrages,'  etc.  The  falsity  of  this  state- 
ment will  appear  when  I  assure  you  that  to  my 
knowledge  there  are  half  a  dozen  men  here  who  were 
not  even  charged  at  their  trials  with  any  overt  act 
beyond  a  nominal  connection  with  the  Klan.  But 
the  effect  of  the  announcement  is  to  give  people 
of  the  North  the  impression  that  only  a  squad  of 
desperadoes  are  confined  here:  while  on  the  other 
hand  our  friends  will  consider  that  it  would  be  use- 
less to  make  any  further  effort  in  our  favor.  Well 
may  Sir.  Jas.  Mackintosh  describe  imprisonment 
as  the  safest,  most  quiet,  most  convenient,  and 
often  the  most  cruel  punishment  an  oppressor  can 
inflict.  'The  prisoner,'  he  says,  'is  silently  hid  from 
the  public  eye,  his  suffering  being  unseen,  speedily 
ceases  to  excite  pity  or  indignation  and  he  is  soon 
doomed  to  oblivion.'  Sir  James  might  have  added 
that  the  oppressor  always  has  it  in  his  power  to 
apologize  for  his  barbarity,  while  calumniating  his 
victim;  the  prisoner  is  voiceless  while  the  govt, 
flings  falsehoods  broadcast  by  means  of  a  merce- 
nary partizan  press.  This  has  been  the  policy  of 
the  Radical  administration  from  the  very  close  of 
the  war.  Men  have  been  tried  by  courts  martial, 
by  special  commissions  and  by  Star-Chamber 
Courts,  and  the  victims  have  been  hurried  away  to 
linger  and  die  in  distant  prisons  in  the  cold  North 
or  at  the  Dry  Tortugas;  while  the  govt,  by  means 


372  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

of  its  paid  writers  and  obsequious  newspaper  or- 
gans has  been  able  to  justify  its  violence  at  each 
successive  stage  of  the  proceedings.  But  why  ex- 
patiate on  this  subject?  You  have  witnessed  these 
things  yourself.  Jefferson  foresaw  them  half  a 
century  ago  when  he  predicted  that  the  tyranny  of 
Congress  would  first  endanger  the  Republic  and 
afterwards  would  come  the  despotism  of  the  execu- 
tive. We  have  already  had  some  experience  of  both 
evils;  but  I  doubt  if  we  have  seen  the  worst.  You 
will  notice,  my  excellent  friend,  I  say  nothing  of 
my  release  of  which  you  wrote  me.  Having  had  no 
intelligence  since  yours  of  Mar.  31st  I  am  unable 
to  form  any  opinion  of  the  matter,  altho'  I  con- 
fess I  feel  an  intolerable  anxiety  to  know  what  has 
been  done  and  what  are  the  prospects.  ...  I  am 
wonderfully  curious  about  these  trivial  matters  of 
which  no  one  would  be  likely  to  write  me.  Even 
father  has  ceased  to  write  me,  or  at  any  rate  I 
have  ceased  to  receive  his  letters.  I  begin  to  feel 
very  much  like  Topsy  who  'never  was  born  and 
never  had  any  friends  or  relatives.'  However  I 
shall  always  feel  proud  and  confident  of  your  gen- 
erous friendship,  etc." 

May  12th,  Wrote  a  long  "Temperance  Tract," 
showing  the  results  of  intemperance  as  recorded  here, 
etc.  Nine  in  ten  convicts  confess  to  hard  drinking  when 
outside.  Another  Ku  Klux  was  discharged  this  evening 
and  one  will  go  tomorrow,  having  served  their  term,  I 
believe.  Murphey  and  Martin  are  the  names;  both  poor 
whites.  I  have,  also,  heard  of  the  pardon  of  Dr.  E.  T. 
Avery  which  merits  mention  here.  He  was  arraigned 
at  the  same  time  that  'Squire  Brown  was,  and  would 
inevitably  have  been  sent  here  for  a  long  term.  But  he 
forfeited  his  bond  and  fled  to  parts  unknown.  Half  a 
dozen  negroes  swore  that  he  was  a  "Raider,"  a  leader, 
etc.  His  property  would  have  been  sold  but  his  wife 
raised  the  $3000  and  satisfied  the  bond.  And  now  after 
two  years,  when  the  government  has  satisfied  its  desire 
for  convictions,  one  of  the  government  witnesses  comes 
forward  and  swears  that  Avery  was  not  on  the  raids, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  373 

etc.,  and  Grant  has  signed  an  unconstitutional  pardon! 
Whether  the  Doctor  will  recover  his  $3000  is  doubtful 
although  if  he  was  an  innocent  man  he  ought  not  to 
have  been  arrested  and  therefore  ought  not  to  have 
given  bond  or  forfeited  it. 

But  what  I  most  think  of  is  this,  that  by  running 
away  he  escaped  coming  to  the  penitentiary  and  is  now 
fully  cleared  of  the  charge  against  him.  Had  I  fled  the 
country  when  warned  to  do  so,  I  should  have  escaped 
in  like  manner.  Had  he  stood  trial  as  I  did  he  would 
now  be  here  and  might  never  obtain  pardon.  From  this 
may  be  seen  the  unfairness,  and  vindictiveness  of  Hugh 
Bond's  Political  Tribunal,  so-called  the  Federal  Courts ! 

May  14-th.  In  despair  of  obtaining  any  writing  pa- 
per, I  wrote  to  Capt.  P.  asking  him  to  issue  orders  that 
I  might  be  permitted  to  purchase  a  couple  of  quires.  He 
promptly  replied  by  sending  me  the  quantity  asked 
for;  but  marked  "no  charge."  This  is  not  exactly  as  I 
wish ;  but  as  it  may  be  against  the  rules  to  allow  prison- 
ers to  buy  paper,  I  take  it,  and  am  obliged  to  Capt.  P. 
For  now  I  can  go  on  with  my  literary  compositions, 
which  I  find  is  the  most  efficacious  plan  to  forget  time. 
Weather  is  disagreeably  cold  and  wet  this  morning. 

Lynch,  one  of  my  patients,  is  very  low  and  had  writ- 
ten to  his  mother  to  bring  him  the  picture  of  the  "blessed 
Virgin  Mary."  She  came  today,  a  poor,  pinched,  dried 
up,  Irish  woman  but  full  of  affection  and  tenderness 
for  her  "by."  It  is  really  touching  to  witness  her  dis- 
tress over  the  bed  of  her  vagabond  son.  She  is  now  gone 
for  the  Priest. 

May  17th.  Have  been  reading  De  Toqueville's 
"Democracy  in  America,"  or  trying  to  read,  but  the 
day  is  so  chilly  that  I  can  scarcely  hold  a  book.  This 
horrid  climate  appears  to  be  utterly  void  of  the  spring 
season;  'tis  winter  until  July;  and  people  wear  over- 
coats the  whole  year  round. 

May  18th.  Addie  writes  that  he  gave  me  all  the 
news  in  his  last  letter!  This  is  intolerable.  The  letters 
containing  "news"  always  contrive  to  not  reach  me.  I 
sometimes  doubt  whether  they  ever  get  out  of  the  port- 
folios of  the  writers. 


874  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

May  19th.  Two  rascals  released  together  on  Satur- 
day came  back  together  today.  Their  little  financial  ar- 
rangement was  interrupted  by  the  police  I  suppose. 
One  fellow  came  in  the  other  day  in  his  bare  feet  al- 
though the  weather  was  hardly  endurable  to  me  in  heavy 
clothing!  He  ought  to  be  glad  to  get  in. 

May  25ih.  During  the  past  week  I  have  been  much 
out  of  spirits,  but  hoped  to  have  something  interesting 
if  not  encouraging  by  today's  mail ;  instead  I  am,  in  spite 
of  good  resolutions,  left  a  prey  of  feelings  in  which 
disappointment,  mortification  and  indignation  are 
about  equally  divided.  I  am  disappointed  in  getting  no 
letters,  mortified  that  I  have  not  inspired  my  friends, 
so-called,  with  a  warmer  attachment,  and  indignant  that 
I  should  be  so  utterly  neglected  by  all,  even  those  who 
took  a  solemn  oath  to  aid,  comfort,  and  assist  brethren 
in  distress.  I  try  to  banish  these  occasional  ebulitions  of 
irritation,  but  'tis  not  easy  to  do  so;  especially  when  I 
see  many  poor,  degraded,  and  insignificant  creatures 
warmly  sustained  and  encouraged  by  their  people  from 
week  to  week.  Upon  the  whole,  however,  I  think  my 
liver  is  out  of  order,  and  that  I  am  rather  bilious.1 

Capt.  P.  has  been  in  with  Col.  T.  C.  Calicott,  whom 
he  introduced  to  me  as  a  "brother  editor."  The  latter 
was  recently  connected  with  the  Albany  Argus,  but  is 
now  publishing  a  new  paper  of  his  own.  He  is  a 
pleasant  appearing  and  speaking  gentleman  of  about 
38  years  of  age,  and  is  reputed  to  possess  an  high  order 
of  intellect.  He  was  elected  speaker  of  the  New  York 
House  of  Representatives  when  a  very  young  man,  and 
bade  fair  to  ascend  rapidly  in  public  life.  But  being 
appointed  Collector  of  Customs  at  New  York  City,  he 
became  involved  in  some  irregularities  (of  which  I  know 
nothing)  and  was  sent  here  for  two  years.  He  spent 
a  great  deal  of  money  in  prosecuting  the  court  for  false 
imprisonment,  but  was  pardoned  before  the  expiration 
of  his  term.  While  confined  here  he  held  my  situation 
(Steward  of  the  Hospital)  and  employed  his  leisure  in 
acquiring  knowledge  of  French  and  Spanish.  His  Peni- 
tentiary sentence  does  not  appear  to  have  greatly  aff  ect- 

1  This  paragraph  is  crossed  out  in  the  manuscript. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  375 

ed  his  social  status,  and  his  newspaper  is  said  to  be  rapid- 
ly gaining  favor  in  Albany.  Col.  Calicott  was  con- 
siderate in  proffering  his  sympathy,  saying  that  it  is 
generally  understood  that  political  persecution  had 
much  to  do  with  our  prosecution,  etc.  I  was  pleased  to 
meet  him;  since  it  facilitates  certain  arrangements  I 
have  in  view  for  remaining  North  a  few  weeks  after 
my  release,  if  it  occur  soon.  Capt.  Pilsbury  told  him, 
I  had  more  friends  in  N.  C.  now  than  I  had  ever  before. 
His  wife  had  just  received  a  letter  from  a  former  friend, 
the  wife  of  Lafayette  or  Dick  (I  forget  which)  T witty 
of  Spartanburg,  S.  C,  who  wrote  that  the  reason  she 
had  said  so  little  about  the  Ku  Klux  heretofore  was 
because  they  were  living  under  a  reign  of  terror,  and 
her  husband  was  in  great  danger  of  coming  here  him- 
self as,  indeed,  all  respectable  men  were,  etc.,  etc.  The 
testimony  of  this  Northern  lady  writing  to  her  Northern 
friends  from  the  very  centre  of  the  Ku  Klux  district, 
ought  to  remove  some  prejudice  from  the  minds  of 
those  who  hear  it.  But  what  is  a  single  voice,  against 
the  daily,  the  persistently  repeated,  misrepresentations 
of  the  Radical  presses?  This  casual  visit,  which  was 
not  wholly  to  me,  is  an  agreeable  interruption  of  my 
monotonous  life;  although  it  awakens  the  keenest  de- 
sire for  liberty. 

Monday ',  May  26th.  Rev.  Jno.  S.  Ezell,  one  of  the 
K.  K.  prisoners  from  S.  C,  has  had  a  visit  from  some 
of  his  brethren  of  the  Northern  Baptist  church;  and 
gives  a  most  amusing  account  of  it  in  his  letter  today. 
I  say  "amusing,"  because  it  is  so  to  me,  not  because 
he  had  any  intention  to  ridicule  his  visitors.  On  the 
contrary  he  seems  highly  gratified  by  their  proceedings. 
They  were  respectively,  the  Revd.  Dr.  Fulton  of  Bos- 
ton, Rev.  Dr.  Simmons  of  New  York,  Rev.  Dr.  Brooks 
from  somewhere  else;  and  Rev.  Dr.  Somebody  whom 
he  couldn't  remember.  They  questioned  him  closely 
and  then  prayed  for  him,  so  fervently  that  his  "Soul 
overpowered  itself."  They  then  assured  him  they  should 
do  all  in  their  power  to  get  him  out,  etc.,  etc.,  and  finally 
counselled  him  to  repent  and  "confess  his  crimes!"  How 
hard  is  it  for  these  Yankees  to  believe  that  their  pet 


376  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

President  would  consign  an  innocent  gray-haired 
preacher  of  the  gospel  to  the  Penitentiary  merely  be- 
cause he  was  opposed  to  his  own  political  principles! 
Yet  this  in  effect  is  a  true  statement  of  the  case.  The 
old  man  held  up  his  hand  and  protested  in  sight  of  God 
and  man  that  he  was  innocent  of  all  crime,  and  had 
been  only  nominally  a  member  of  the  Klan.  But  I 
presume  the  delegation  took  counsel  rather  with  their 
prejudices  than  their  reason,  or  his  asseverations. 

Nevertheless  they  will  get  him  out.  For  Ezell  pro- 
fessed the  deepest  humility,  and  promised  that  if  par- 
doned he  should  go  home,  and  try  to  befriend  the  ne- 
groes, preserve  peace,  etc.,  which  was  equivalent  to 
acknowledging  the  justice  of  his  punishment!  These 
gentlemen  then  prepared  a  petition  to  send  Grant,  and 
will  push  the  matter  to  a  successful  issue.  But  I  am 
sorry  the  old  man  abased  himself  in  that  manner;  and 
he  is  sorry  too ;  for  he  says  in  today's  letter,  after  recit- 
ing the  facts,  "let  not  this  be  known  outside  of  the  fam- 
ily— burn  this  letter."  Of  course  there  is  nothing 
censurable  in  this  conduct  on  moral  grounds,  for  doubt- 
less he  will  do,  and  has  always  been  doing,  just  what 
he  promised  to  do.  But  it  is  too  bad  for  our  men  thus 
to  cringe  before  the  tyrannical  villains  who  robbed 
them  of  their  liberty.  Each  week  the  letters  show  that 
weakness  of  backbone  is  spreading  among  prisoners. 
Men  are  yielding  or  professing  to  yield  their  life  long 
principles  for  the  poor  bribe  of  a  few  months,  or  years 
of  liberty.  Thus  W.  L.  Hood  and  Capt.  J.  W.  Mitch- 
ell in  their  letters  of  today  send  messages  to  A.  S.  Wal- 
lace, the  despicable  Scalawag  member  of  Congress  from 
S.  C,  assuring  him  that  they  are  very  much  his  friends 
and  always  were  his  friends,  and  if  pardoned  they  in- 
tend always  to  vote  for  him,  etc.  Is  this  not  enough 
to  disgust  even  so  degraded  a  creature  as  Wallace  him- 
self? True,  these  men  have  long  terms,  and  their  fam- 
ilies need  their  support  and  Wallace  seems  to  hold  the 
destinies  of  all  the  Ku  Klux  from  his  section  in  his  own 
hands.  But  I  would  much  prefer  to  see  every  South- 
ern prisoner  patiently  awaiting  the  freedom  which 
Time  is  sure  to  bring  instead  of  purchasing  a  semblance 


The  Shotwell  Papers  377 

of  liberty  by  surrendering  their  principles  and  manhood. 
May  27th.  The  gong  was  struck  two  taps;  which 
being  the  signal  for  me,  I  hurried  down,  and  found  that 
Aunt  Susie  and  Dr.  Schneider  were  come  to  visit  me. 
Capt.  P.  had  conducted  them  into  his  private  drawing 
room,  whither  he  carried  me  to  meet  them,  as  the  office 
was  lumbered  up  with  a  new  safe  he  had  just  received. 
This  was  an  unusual  courtesy  on  his  part,  for  all  visi- 
tors are  taken  to  the  guard  room  to  meet  their  acquaint- 
ance among  the  prisoners.  But  Capt.  P.  went  farther 
and  after  I  had  saluted  Auntie  and  shaken  hands  with 
the  Doctor,  told  me  to  talk  as  much  as  I  pleased,  and  left 
the  room ;  his  wife,  being  my  only  guardian  for  the  time. 
He,  also,  declined  to  examine  a  package  of  articles 
fetched  me  by  Aunt  Susie:  all  of  which  shows  that  he 
is  a  gentleman,  and  knows  how  to  treat  a  gentleman, 
even  if  the  latter  is  an  unfortunate  prisoner  in  his  cus- 
tody. Aunt  and  Uncle  are  just  from  Valatie,  where 
they  arrived  an  Saturday  on  a  visit  to  Uncle  Alexander, 
but  being  called  by  telegraph  to  Boston  to  deliver  an 
address,  the  Doctor  hurried  Aunt  to  see  me  before 
going  east.  She  is  better  looking  than  when  I  saw  her 
last,  15  years  ago.  He  much  more  broken.  Both  will 
return  to  Asia  Minor  in  a  few  months;  but  speak  of 
seeing  me  again.  They  are  as  affectionate  as  any  one 
could  wish,  and  Auntie's  eyes  were  rarely  free  of  tears 
during  the  interview;  yet  such  is  the  force  of  prejudice, 
and  the  influence  of  repeated  misrepresentation  that  it 
is  utterly  impossible  to  reason  them  out  of  the  belief 
that  the  Government  is  perfectly  justifiable  in  all  its 
usurpations,  injustice,  and  tyranny.  Grant  they  think 
one  of  the  best  men  of  the  age,  and  scrupulously  hon- 
orable, etc.,  while  the  Klan  was  a  wicked  conspiracy 
to  break  up  the  Union,  slaughter  the  negroes,  etc.  They 
do  not,  of  course,  insinuate  that  I  was  guilty  of  all  this ; 
but  they  are  so  so  sad  I  got  into  such  bad  company,  that 
I  ever  went  South,  that  I  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
Southern  born,  etc.  Consequently  we  were  obliged  to  do 
as  the  doctors,  "agree  to  disagree"  and  drop  the  sub- 
ject. The  interview  lasted  about  an  hour  (double  the 
usual  time)  and  then  they  were  obliged  to  go  to  catch 


378  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

the  afternoon  train  for  Boston.  Altogether  I  enjoyed 
their  visit  very  much,  and  I  hope  and  believe  dear  Aunt 
will  think  better  of  me  hereafter;  whatever  her  view  of 
the  Klan,  and  the  South,  generally.  And  I  feel  a  sin- 
cere regard  for  her.  After  the  withdrawal  of  my  friends, 
Mrs.  Pilsbury  bade  me  keep  my  seat,  and  entered  into 
conversation,  telling  me  about  the  letter  she  had  from 
Mrs.  T witty  who  had  just  seen  Mrs.  Dr.  Craton,  and 
appears  to  have  expressed  herself  generously  in  my 
favor.  To  which  Mrs.  P.  replied  next  mail,  and  as  she 
remarked — "said  a  good  deal  more  about  you  than  the 
Captain  would  have  allowed  if  he  had  known  it,"  etc. 
I  was  much  pleased  to  have  a  little  chat  with  a  lady, 
after  having  been  so  long  deprived  of  sweet  society. 

Mrs.  Pilsbury  is  about  35 ;  is  good  looking,  intelligent ; 
and  a  good  Democrat  in  political  opinions ;  though  much 
of  an  aristocrat  in  her  private  sentiments  I  suspect,  as 
indeed  all  women  who  have  nothing  to  do,  usually  are. 

June  1st.  Aunt  Susie  sends  me  a  little  package  of 
chromatic  prints  of  flowers  beautifully  executed  by  a 
new  process  of  which  I  forgot  the  name.  "Tis  quite  a 
novelty  to  see  even  the  counterfeit  of  a  flower.  From 
Genl.  L.  I  have  another  encouraging  letter.  It  en- 
closes the  following  from  Plato  D. 

Shelby,  May  23rd,  '73.  Dear  General — I  don't 
think  Capt.  Shotwell  needs  be  out  of  heart  about 
his  release.  When  I  carried  the  petitions  to  Wash- 
ington the  President  was  absent  on  a  Western 
trip  and  returned  only  a  few  days  ago.  If  any  one 
is  interfering  to  prevent  his  release  I  am  not  aware 
of  it.  Big  men,  though,  you  know  can't  be  hurried 
and  take  their  own  time  to  do  things.  If  the  Presi- 
dent had  been  in  Washington  when  I  was  there  I 
think  the  prisoners  would  all  have  been  pardoned; 
but  it  is  impossible  to  get  men  to  take  an  interest 
in  such  matters,  and  work,  unless  one  can  be  present 
to  urge  them  up.  I  hope  to  hear  something  favor- 
able in  a  few  days,  and  I  will  write  you  at  once. 
I  am  urging  them  by  letter  almost  every  mail. 
Very  truly  yrs. 

P.  Durham. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  379 

To  which  Genl.  L.  adds,  "I  feel  certain  that  you  have 
a  staunch  friend  in  Durham  who  will  let  no  occasion 
slip  to  further  your  release  by  his  action  with  the  au- 
thorities. I  have  also  heard  from  Judge  Merrimon, 
who  is  as  you  know  a  man  of  much  energy  in  all  he  un- 
dertakes. He  is  working  for  you  and  will  in  time  do 
all  he  can  to  shorten  official  and  other  delays.  I  must 
say  that  I  confidently  hope  for  your  restoration  to 
liberty." 

Ah!  mon  ami,  'tis  kind  of  you  to  wish  it,  but  alas! 
We  too  often  take  for  granted  that  which  we  only  very 
strongly  wished  should  happen. 

I  regret  to  learn  that  sickness  has  prevailed  in  our 
family,  and  that  father  is  still  indisposed,  although  im- 
proving. His  illness  perhaps  accounts  for  his  long 
silence.  The  Genl.  says  he  supposes  I  hear  from  him 
often!  How  much  mistaken  he  is! 

Another  piece  of  intelligence  is  that  the  Mongrel 
thieves  have  already  begun  to  quarrel  and  as  a  conse- 
quence honest  men  are  coming  by  their  own.  Wallace, 
the  post  master  at  Rutherf  ordton,  having  been  removed 
to  give  place  for  Scoggins'  niece,  turns  State's  evidence 
against  both  Andy,  the  marshal,  and  Nathan,  the  com- 
missioner, and  showed  them  guilty  of  such  malfeasance 
in  office  that  they  have  been  suspended,  pending  their 
trial. 

These  are  the  men  who  ordered  my  arrest,  confined 
me  in  a  cage  in  company  with  murderers  and  negroes, 
and  subsequently  carried  me  to  Marion  in  handcuffs 
before  I  had  been  even  examined !  Retribution  already 
overtakes  them!  But  they  have  made  so  much  money 
by  persecuting  their  fellow  citizens  that  they  can  afford 
to  buy  the  Judge  and  get  off  for  the  time.  The  infam- 
ous Jim  Justice  is  a  witness  against  the  Scogginses, 
and  they  now  threaten  to  expose  some  of  his  rascality 
and  bring  him  and  many  others  into  difficulty.  In 
short,  it  is  Cfa  very  pretty  quarrel"  as  Capt.  Mac  Turk 
would  say,  and  is  likely  to  lead  to  exposures,  highly 
beneficial  to  the  public,  if  damaging  to  the  actors.  I 
must  confess  this  information  gives  me  great  satisfac- 
tion.    Nothing  can  so  materially  assist  to  vindicate  my 


380  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

reputation  as  these  criminations  and  recriminations  of 
the  principal  emissaries  of  the  government  in  the  Ku 
Klux  prosecutions,  and  who  were  the  immediate  work- 
ers of  my  own  wrongs.  In  South  Carolina,  also,  the 
Scalawags  have  fallen  to  squabbling  among  themselves 
and  are  exposing  their  own  corruption  and  lawlessness 
in  fine  style.  If  it  be  true  that  a  rogue  makes  the  best 
of  detectives,  we  may  look  for  some  extraordinary  de- 
velopments. 

June  8th.  Letters  from  Geo.  R.  Valentine  of  New 
Bedford,  Mass.,  requesting  to  see  a  copy  of  my  paper, 
the  "North  Carolina  Citizen."  Unfortunately  I  am 
not  now  in  the  newspaper  business.  Bro.  M.  writes 
that  he  has  been  down  to  Philadelphia,  and  spent  a  day 
with  Governor  Pollock,  who  is  a  distant  cousin  of  ours, 
and  has  a  charming  daughter.  M.  is  so  disgusted  with 
the  South  that  he  is  resolved  not  to  return  home  but  go 
West,  and  is  now  trying  to  get  a  position  on  one  of  the 
Chicago  R.  R.'s  where  he  will  study  law.  I  am  ex- 
ceedingly sorry  he  don't  go  South  and  be  with  father 
in  his  old  age,  as  well  as  take  advantage  of  the  family 
influence  to  advance  his  own  fortunes.  But  he  has 
lived  so  long  among  the  Yankees,  he  has  become  partly 
" Yankeeized ;"  and  considers  the  South  too  slow  for 
him  I  suppose. 

June  12th.  A  real,  or  pretended,  lunatic  was  fetched 
in  yesterday,  and  is  giving  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 
He  is  a  negro,  and  an  old  offender.  The  surgeon  told 
me  to  watch  him  closely  and  be  ready  for  an  outbreak; 
but  I  soon  became  satisfied  that  the  black  rascal  is 
shamming,  that  is,  no  more  insane  than  I  am.  He  cried, 
and  raved  precisely  like  a  half-witted  creature,  so  long 
as  the  officer  was  present,  but  became  quite  rational  im- 
mediately after  he  withdrew.  This  evening,  however, 
after  he  heard  me  tell  the  deputy  that  he  was  a  fraud 
he  began  to  put  on  airs,  so  outrageously  that  we  were 
obliged  to  handcuff  him  with  his  arms  around  one  of 
the  stout  pillars  in  the  room.  A  couple  of  hours  of  this 
confinement  cured  him;  so  that  when  I  asked  him  if 
he  would  behave  himself  he  promised  to  be  quiet  as  a 


The  Shotwell  Papers  381 

lamb  if  released.     He  has  given  no  trouble  since.     Yet, 
strange  to  say,  the  Deputy  still  thinks  him  crazy. 

June  14th.  About  9  o'clock  last  night  two  officers 
came  in,  dragging  an  huge  Irishman  in  a  fit  of  delirium 
tremens.  He  is  quite  a  giant,  and  being  very  violent 
at  times,  I  was  obliged  to  set  a  constant  watch  by  his 
bed-side,  taking  it  myself  during  half  the  night.  Deputy 
soon  afterwards  brought  me  a  bottle  of  chloral,  which, 
in  an  hour  or  two,  I  exorcised  the  "devil,"  and  laid  Pat 
in  a  comfortable  slumber;  although  he  never  ceased  to 
talk  in  his  sleep,  keeping  nearly  everybody  else  awake 
in  the  room.  The  counterfeit  lunatic  was  so  frightened 
by  the  ravings  of  the  Irishman  that  he  forgot  his  cun- 
ning, and  talked  as  rationally  as  could  be  wished.  I 
shall  soon  have  a  miniature  Insane  Asylum  up  here;  I 
have  three  deranged  men  already,  and  a  promise  of 
others.  Pleasant  situation  for  a  gentleman  isn't  it?  But 
misery  and  the  Penitentiary  make  strange  bed  fellows. 

Three  more  Ku  Klux  were  brought  in  today:  Jno. 
Wallace  sentenced  for  eight  years;  H.  M.  Moore,  and 
Robt.  Biggins  for  three  years  each.  The  last  named 
was  tried  more  than  a  year  ago,  but  contrived  to  be  kept 
in  jail  at  Yorkville.  His  coming  here  now  is  no  very 
promising  indication  of  our  getting  out.  Wallace  de- 
serves to  come  here,  as  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  turn 
State's  evidence,  and  swear  against  his  friends  and 
neighbors.  But,  having  subsequently  incurred  the  en- 
mity of  some  of  the  Mongrel  leaders,  he  was  arrested 
on  a  new  charge;  and  here  he  is  where  all  traitors,  and 
perjured  witnesses  ought  to  be! 

Brown  has  letters  containing  newspaper  extracts 
telling  of  the  rapid  organization  of  the  negroes  into 
military  companies,  and  predicting  the  most  direful 
consequences  in  S.  C.  if  the  movement  is  not  checked 
through  the  good  sense  of  the  more  intelligent  of  the 
colored  people  themselves.  Here  is  one  more  feature 
of  Grant's  Ku  Klux  crusade;  the  negroes  are  to  be 
incited  to  a  servile  war,  which  will  lead  to  the  military 
interference  of  the  Government  for  carrying  the  South 
for  Grant's  third  term,  or  a  life  dictatorship.  The  same 
policy  is  being  carried  out  in  Arkansas  and  Louisiana 


382  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

I  am  told: — the  government  as  usual  supporting  the 
negroes  in  all  their  atrocities. 

June  15th.  Got  up  before  daylight  to  look  after  my 
crazy  chaps,  and  could  not  sleep  for  thinking  about 
the  news  I  should  get  in  the  mail.  But  'twas  a  waste 
of  time;  there  was  nothing  for  me.     And  yet -1 

June  16th.  The  negro  (sham)  lunatic  turns  out  to 
be  as  sane  as  anybody;  just  as  I  predicted.  But  he  did 
mimic  madness  "mighty  muchly." 

By  the  letters  today  I  see  that  old  preacher  Ezell  is 
in  high  hopes  of  a  pardon.  His  Baptist  brethren  have 
been  at  work  to  get  him  out,  and  Judge  Bond  has  writ- 
ten a  letter  to  his  son,  Landrum,  telling  him  that  he  is 
going  to  Washington  to  explain  his  case  to  the  authori- 
ties, etc.  Of  course,  Bond,  who  sent  him  here  can  get 
him  out;  and  doubtless  will  make  a  merit  of  doing  so, 
now  that  he  sees  that  public  sympathy  is  being  awak- 
ened in  behalf  of  his  aged  victim. 

June  17th.  Capt.  P.  informs  me  that  old  Mr.  Ezell's 
pardon  has  been  signed  and  doubtless  will  be  here  in  a 
few  days,  which  I  am  glad  to  hear. 

It  is  reported  that  a  widow  lady  and  her  daughter, 
12  years  old  were  raped  by  negroes  in  Rutherford 
County.  The  citizens  caught  one  of  the  villains,  and 
hung  him; — another  "Ku  Klux  outrage"  of  course. 

This  is  no  more  than  I  expected,  no  more  than  the 
Mongrels  encouraged  by  their  shameful  persecution  of 
the  white  citizens  of  that  county.  The  negroes  have 
been  taught  that  they  are  masters,  and  will  be  sup- 
ported in  any  atrocity  by  Grant's  bayonets.  This  very 
crime  of  rape  of  white  women  by  brutal  negroes  was 
the  origin  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan  in  the  original  instance. 

Capt.  P.  mentions  that  he  has  just  received  a  tele- 
gram telling  him  to  hold  one  Bo  wen,  and  not  commit 
him  to  the  Penitentiary  because  a  pardon  has  been 
signed  by  the  President,  and  is  on  the  way  to  him.  Bow- 
en  is,  I  believe,  the  Scalawag  postmaster  of  Mobile,  and 
was  convicted  of  embezzlement  of  large  sums  of  money ; 
but  he  proved  that  he  used  it  in  electioneering  for  Grant, 
so  he  is  pardoned  before  he  reaches  the  Penitentiary! 

1  This  paragraph  is  crossed  out  in  the  manuscript. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  383 

Can  anything  exceed  this  for  open  and  unblushing  par- 
tizanship.  Here  is  the  President  compounding  a  fel- 
ony merely  because  the  thief  applied  the  proceeds  of 
his  robbery  to  electioneering  purposes !  Thus  the  pub- 
lic treasury  is  robbed  to  carry  the  election  of  a  partizan 
and  corrupt  President!  But  what  of  that?  May  it 
not  be  said  of  Grant's  partizans — 

"Each  hour  dark  fraud 
Or  open  rapine,  or  protected  murder 
Cry  out  against  them!" 

I  frequently  wonder  whether,  in  after  years  when  I 
shall  read  these  pages,  I  shall  perceive  that  I  was  wrong; 
unduly  biased  against  individuals ;  and  erroneous  in  my 
judgment  concerning  the  action  of  the  administration? 
I  am  well  aware  that  at  times  I  write  gloomily,  and  too 
often  under  the  spur  of  bitter  and  indignant  feelings. 
But  have  I  exaggerated  in  any  respect?  Is  not  the 
cruel  cunning  of  the  administration  shown  in  its  acts,  and 
illustrated  by  a  thousand  instances?  Have  I  given  too 
dark  a  tinge  to  the  story  of  my  own  wrongs  and  suffer- 
ings? It  is  possible  that  Time  may  mitigate,  and  fur- 
ther information  "explain  away"  much  that  now  op- 
presses my  soul,  with  horrible  reminiscences.  But  in  all 
candor  and  fairness  I  declare  that  I  doubt  if  I  have 
painted  the  depravity  of  the  Mongrels,  and  the  crafty 
corruption  of  our  Military  government  in  colors  black 
enough  to  do  them  justice.  I  know  that  respecting 
myself  I  have  stated  only  the  truth.  But  who  can  tell 
what  outrages  of  a  similar  nature  may  have  been  per- 
petrated on  our  Southern  citizens  since  I  came  here! 

June  18th.  Rev.  Jno.  S.  Ezell's  pardon  having  ar- 
rived, he  has  just  come  in  from  the  work  shops  for  the 
last  time.  It  will  be  a  joyous  afternoon  for  him.  No 
more  of  wearisome  prison  life  afar  from  his  loved  ones 
and  in  a  strange  land ;  no  more  drudgery  in  the  shops  un- 
der a  captious  overseer ;  no  more  dreary  nights  in  a  soli- 
tary cell ;  no  association  with  vagabonds  and  cut  throats. 
Liberty  like  the  enchanter's  wand  will  in  less  than  an 
hour  put  all  of  these  things  out  of  sight,  only  to  be  re- 
membered as  the  hideous  creatures  of  some  distempered 
dream!     Thus  terminates  (let  us  hope)   a  persecution 


384  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

as  foul  and  merciless  as  the  decrees  of  the  Spanish  In- 
quisitions. This  aged  and  earnest  (tho'  it  may  be  un- 
educated) preacher  of  the  gospel,  has  been  tried,  con- 
victed, sentenced,  and  imprisoned  among  the  offscour- 
ing  of  the  earth — for  no  offense  whatever;  but  merely 
because  his  principles  were  opposed  to  the  wicked  and 
usurping  policy  of  the  government.  He  at  last  is  par- 
doned at  demand  of  the  public  voice  speaking  through  a 
number  of  the  most  respectable  ministers  of  his  own 
branch  of  the  Church,  North.  He  goes  home  in  glee,  and 
will  there  be  more  esteemed  than  ever.  Even  his  Yankee 
brethren  are  satisfied  of  his  innocence ;  for  I  notice  that 
Dr.  Simmons  invites  him  to  spend  a  day  in  New  York 
with  him;  to  meet  other  friends. 

I  rejoice  that  the  old  man  is  free.  He  personally 
was  nothing  to  me  but  surely  the  Northern  people  who 
hear  of  his  case  must  begin  to  reflect  that  if  this  preach- 
er could  be  so  treated  how  small  the  chance  of  escape 
for  more  insignificant  men  who  were  of  less  consequence 
in  their  communities. 

I  was  in  hope  that  old  'Squire  Brown  would  have 
been  released  before  now,  as  he  is  fast  breaking  with 
age  and  infirmity:  but  I  suppose  the  government  con- 
siders him  not  sufficiently  humbled  and  disgraced  for 
its  clemency.  Not  until  he  abases  himself  utterly  in 
the  dust,  will  he  be  restored  to  his  rights, — if  it  be  not 
an  Irish  Bull  to  say  that  a  man  must  give  up  one  right 
— that  of  being  truthful — to  obtain  another — liberty. 

There  is  one  thing  in  connection  with  the  release  of 
prisoners  here  that  does  not  seem  exactly  just.  A  par- 
don may  come  in  the  8  o'clock  mail,  but  the  prisoner 
knows  nothing  of  it  until  2  o'clock  or  later ;  the  interval 
being  used  in  the  washing  of  his  linen,  etc.  Now  five 
or  six  hours  is  not  much  to  a  free  man  but  to  a  miser- 
able captive,  toiling  in  the  shops,  this  time  is  of  no  small 
importance.  Five  dollars  an  hour  would  not  tempt  me 
to  stay  in  such  a  position,  after  I  had  a  right  to  quit  it. 
And  surely  the  prisoner  is  entitled  to  his  liberty  the 
moment  the  pardon  reaches  the  hands  of  the  Superin- 
tendent. Of  course  it  is  as  well  that  the  man  should 
know  nothing  of  his  good  fortune  for  the  time  until  he 


The  Shotwell  Papers  385 

is  put  in  possession  of  it;  but  I  think  he  ought  to  be 
allowed  to  stop  working. 

The  case  of  Leander  Spencer,  one  of  the  K.  K.  from 
S.  C,  as  I  have  heard  it,  shows  much  of  the  usual  in- 
justice of  Jeffreys  Bond's  sentences. 

Spencer  and  White  were  farm  hands  of  a  man  named 
Wm.  Smith,  the  chief  of  a  Klan.  The  latter  proposed 
that  they  three  should  whip  a  negro  (Goode)  who  had 
threatened  to  violate  some  white  women  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  who  had  also  made  himself  very  obnox- 
ious to  the  whites  by  fixing  old  guns  (he  was  a  gun- 
smith) and  furnishing  new  ones  to  arm  negroes. 

The  party  took  Goode  into  the  woods,  and  Smith 
then  ordered  Spencer  to  shoot  him  but  Spencer  recoiled 
from  the  murder,  and  utterly  refused  to  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  the  business,  notwithstanding  their 
threats  to  kill  him,  too,  if  he  drew  back.  Finally  White 
shot  the  negro,  and  failing  to  kill  him,  deliberately  beat 
out  his  brains  with  the  butt  of  his  gun. 

And  now  we  come  to  the  injustice  of  the  matter. 
When  the  arrests  in  York  had  frightened  many  of  the 
Ku  Klux  into  "confessing, "  and  joining  to  hunt  down 
their  late  friends  and  neighbors,  White  went  to  York, 
and  turned  State's  evidence;  thereby  escaping  himself 
(though  he  was  the  leader  and  actual  murderer)  and 
sending  Spencer  (who  protested  against  it)  and  Cald- 
well, who  merely  assisted  to  bury  the  negro,  to  the  Peni- 
tentiary for  ten  years,  and  compelling  them  to  pay 
$1000  fines!  These  poor  men  are  ignorant,  and  have  no 
family  influence;  therefore  they  must  serve  full  term, 
while  White,  the  guiltiest  of  the  party  walks  at  liberty 
and  fills  his  pockets  by  perjury.  Such  is  the  unfairness 
and  injustice  of  these  Government  persecutions.  Smith 
fled  to  parts  unknown.  Caldwell  was  not  present,  but 
was  called  in  next  day  to  help  bury. 

Today  my  "wild  Irishman"  was  sent  down  to  his 
cells,  "Sound  in  mind  and  body."  To  him,  as  to  many 
others,  it  is  a  blessing  that  he  was  arrested  and  sent  to 
prison,  for  his  hard  drinking  was  carrying  him  to  the 
grave  at  a  gallop.  He  confesses  that  he  has  had  three 
spells  of  delirium  tremens  in  three  months!  As  soon  as 


886  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

released  from  bed  he  resumed  his  debauchery.  Here  he 
will  be  sober  for  six  months,  during  which  time  Nature 
can  rejuvenate  his  constitution  somewhat  though  she 
can  never  restore  it  to  aboriginal  health.  (N.  B.  I 
shouldn't  like  to  have  the  rhetoricians  criticise  the  fore- 
going sentences.) 

Afc  jfc  A|£  ^|t  j|£  £|& 

Our  surgeon  is  Dr.  H.  R.  Haskins,  (office  689  Broad- 
way, Albany)  who  is  (I'm  told)  the  Professor  of 
Anatomy  of  the  Medical  College  in  this  City.  He  is  a 
short  stout  man  of  about  36  years ;  dark  hair  and  mous- 
tache; and  apparently  a  good  physician.  Does  he  give 
proper  attention  to  the  sick?  So  far  as  I  can  see,  he  does. 
He  visits  the  institution  four  times  a  week  (Mondays, 
Wednesdays,  Fridays,  and  Saturdays)  and  sometimes 
oftener.  Patients  able  to  work  are  called  to  the  Depu- 
ty's desk  in  the  Hall.  In  the  hospital,  the  Doctor  visits 
each  bed.  He  uses  very  little  medicine,  chiefly  opiates, 
tonics  and  astringents.  Many  convicts  complain  that  he 
is  sparing  of  his  drugs,  i.  e.,  that  is  is  stingy,  but  I  am 
of  opinion  that  he  follows  his  professional  judgment 
without  regard  to  pocket.  One  hundred  dollars  is  al- 
lowed by  the  institution  for  the  purchase  of  medicines 
and  surely  ought  to  suffice  for  a  year  and  I  believe  Dr. 
Haskins  to  be  too  honorable  a  man  to  defraud  the  sick 
convicts  as  is  insinuated.  In  truth  the  position  he  holds 
is  not  a  desirable  one;  or  at  least,  it  is  one  in  which  he 
will  get  no  thanks  from  those  he  cures.  I  have  never  had 
a  patient  who  gave  the  Doctor  any  confidence,  and  who 
did  not  profess  to  know  better  than  anybody  what  kind 
of  treatment  he  needed.  Most  of  the  convalescents 
clamor  for  bitters,  patent  pills,  etc.  One  day  the  Doctor 
sounded  a  man's  lungs  to  see  if  they  were  affected. 
When  he  retired  a  growler  sneered,  '"Spose  he  thinks 
he  cured  Williams  by  patting  his  belly!"  Another  man 
complains  every  damp  day  that  the  Doctor  "won't  give 
him  nothing  to  cure  his  rheumatism,"  a  chronic  case 
which  all  the  drugs  in  Albany  could  not  alleviate. 

It  is  possible  that  Dr.  H.  sometimes  slights  a  man 
who  really  needs  medicine,  but  this  arises  from  the  daily 


The  Shotwell  Papers  387 

attempts  to  "play  off  sick"  (to  escape  labor)  which 
make  him  skeptical  where  the  ailment  is  not  actually 
perceptible. 

June  Nineteenth!  A  day  memorable  in  American 
History;  for  on  this  day  the  first  skirmish  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary War,  and  the  first  in  our  Civil  War  (the  at- 
tack on  the  Massachusetts  Regt.  in  Baltimore)  took 
place. 

It  is  also  memorable  in  my  own  personal  history  as 
the  day  on  which  I  was  released  from  Fort  Delaware 
Military  Prison  in  1865,  after  13  months  confinement. 
Strange  enough  I  have  this  morning  found  a  sketch  of 
our  Barracks  as  they  were  then.  The  buildings  were  of 
rough  planks,  making  one  continuous  hall  subdivided 
into  "divisions"  for  100  men,  each.  The  black  looking 
space  in  the  picture  is  to  represent  water,  a  slimy  filthy 
"back  water"  from  the  river  which  gave  an  offensive 
odor  in  summer,  and  was  frozen  in  winter ;  and  being  the 
only  fluid  allowed  us  for  washing  purposes,  was  exe- 
crated by  all  the  prisoners.  On  the  fence  may  be  seen 
the  sentinel  who  occasionally  fired  on  us,  sometimes  for 
throwing  water  in  the  ditch  after  using  it,  and  some- 
times for  not  doing  so.  The  yard  contained  about  two 
acres,  but  was  full  of  holes,  the  breathing  places  of  huge 
Norway  Rats,  which  many  of  the  prisoners  daily  caught, 
skinned,  and  ate !  I  once  tried  to  take  a  bite  of  rat  soup ; 
but  could  not  accomplish  it;  although  the  cooked  ro- 
dents looked  as  white  and  nice  as  squirrels. 

During  this  long  imprisonment  I  suffered  much  from 
hunger,  thirst  and  cold ;  for  we  received  but  six  crackers 
per  day,  and  a  morsel  of  spoiled  meat;  and  were  often 
without  palatable  drinking  water,  and  few  of  us  had 
more  than  one  blanket,  and  very  little  underclothing; 
to  say  nothing  of  other  annoyances.  Yet  Fort  Delaware 
life  was  happiness  in  comparison  to  my  existence  here. 
For  there  were  2500  of  us  (officers)  and  no  bar  to 
amusement  so  far  as  we  were  capable  of  originating 
amusements  among  ourselves ;  and  there  was  the  stimu- 
lant of  the  feeling  that  we  were  undergoing  hardships 
for  the  good  of  our  Country,  and  to  our  own  future 
honor. 


388  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

And  ah!  what  satisfaction,  what  pleasure,  we  prom- 
ised ourselves  "when  this  cruel  war  is  over!"  Then 
should  we  all  go  home  and  "fight  our  battles  o'er  again" 
around  the  friendly  hearth.  But  the  poet  explains  how 
all  these  fond  predictions  and  anticipations  were  rea- 
lized. 

"Ah  me!  what  changes  time  has  wrought 
And  how  predictions  have  miscarried. 
A  few  have  reached  the  goal  they  sought, 
And  some  are  dead,  and  some  are  married, 
And  some  in  city  journals  war, 
And  some  are  pleading  at  the  bar, 
For  jury  verdicts,  or  for  liquor! 

And  some  on  trade  and  commerce  wait 
And  some  in  school  with  dunces  battle, 
And  some  the  gospel  propagate 
And  some  the  choicest  herds  of  cattle, 
And  some  are  living  at  their  ease, 
And  some  were  wrecked  in  the  'Revulsion,' 
Some  'serve  the  State'  for  handsome  fees 
And  one  I  hear  upon  compulsion" 

Brown  was  sick  today,  and  at  my  suggestion  did  not 
go  to  work.  I  think  any  old  man  like  him  ought  not  to 
work  unless  he  is  able.  Deputy  came  in  and  asked  why 
he  was  not  out  at  work?  Brown  said  he  was  not  able  to 
go  out  today.  "Pshaw!  you  should  have  taken  a  pill  and 
gone  to  work !  I  don't  stop  work  every  time  I  feel  a  little 
weak!"  etc.,  etc.  The  tone  and  manner  in  which  these  re- 
marks were  made  was  worse  than  the  words.  Poor 
Brown  was  quite  cut  to  hear  about  it.  This  is  no  uncom- 
mon occurrence,  and  I  am  liable  to  the  same  abuse  my- 
self although  I  do  not  give  the  Deputy  as  many  chances 
to  pick  at  me  as  Brown  does.  Yet  I  can't  help  feeling 
worried  and  humiliated  when  I  see  an  old  man  like 
Brown  insulted  by  a  lowborn  hound  like  the  fellow  I 
speak  of  is. 

Saturday,  June  21st.  The  variableness  of  this  cli- 
mate accounts  for  the  prevalence  of  consumption  and 
pulmonary  complaints.  Yesterday  on  rising  I  was  op- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  389 

pressed  by  the  sultriness  of  the  atmosphere;  whereas 
today  we  are  all  shivering,  although  still  wearing  our 
winter  flannel!  "I  wish  I  were  in  Dixie." 

I  mentioned  a  few  days  ago  the  sentence  to  this  place 
of  the  Scalawag  Post  office  Thief  (Bowen)  of  Mobile 
Ala.  and  the  probability  that  he  would  be  pardoned,  as 
he  proved  that  the  stolen  money  was  expended  in  elec- 
tioneering for  Grant.  He  arrived  here  three  days  ago 
under  sentence  of  12  months  (other  poor  devils  get  12 
years)  but  was  pardoned  and  released  this  afternoon! 

The  barefaced  iniquity  of  the  Administration  in  this 
transaction  surpasses  even  anything  in  the  former  his- 
tory. It  should  bring  the  blush  of  shame  to  the  cheeks 
of  every  honest  Republican  in  the  land;  for  why  is  this 
rogue  pardoned?  Simply  because  of  a  political  party! 
Grant  or  his  agents  in  the  Cabinet  having  done  the  same 
thing  (though  under  the  pretense  of  paying  the  ex- 
penses of  the  Ku  Klux  Courts)  they  feel  obliged  to 
screen  an  humble  disciple  who  follows  their  example.  So 
when  Grant  is  up  for  his  3rd  term  (or  life)  I  suppose 
we  shall  see  all  good  Republican  postmasters  doing  their 
best  to  spend  the  public  funds  in  his  favor. 

Sunday,  June  22nd.  It  was  some  consolation  to  hear 
from  dear  Aunt  Susie  this  morning,  and  be  assured 
by  her  that  one  at  least,  has  not  forgotten  me  nor  ceased 
to  feel  affectionate  interest  in  my  welfare.  Strange  that 
I,  a  Southerner,  and  suffering  for  my  Southern  princi- 
ples, should  be  left  to  languish,  alone  and  uncared  for, 
except  by  one  friend,  and  she  a  genuine  New  England 
lady!  A  father  I  have;  and  brothers,  sisters,  friends  (so- 
called)  in  the  South;  and  they  profess  to  feel  indignant 
at  the  oppressions  and  villainy  of  the  men  who  sent  me 
here.  But  on  this  Sabbath  morning  (as  usual)  I  am 
without  a  line  from  the  South  while  even  the  poor  devils 
whose  friends  have  to  get  the  neighbors  to  write  their 
letters  for  them,  receive  their  budget  of  home  intelli- 
gence regularly  almost  every  week.  Thus  have  I  been 
mortified  and  pained  Sabbath  after  Sabbath  for  12 
months  or  longer!  Surely  I  shall  not  forget  this  if  For- 
tune ever  restores  me  to  mine  own  again.  Scruggs'  wife 
writes  that  she  walked  twenty  miles  to  borrow  the  money 


390  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

to  send  him  for  his  expenses  home!  this  is  hero- 
ism, but  she  does  not  know  it.  Brown's  letters  tell  him 
that  the  negroes  are  being  organized  and  armed  in  S.  C, 
and  serious  trouble  is  anticipated.  The  "irrepressible 
nigger"  seems  to  be  resolved  on  his  own  destruction. 
Nothing  can  save  him ;  and  the  longer  the  Radicals  rule 
the  country,  the  faster  his  march  to  extermination.  Jef- 
ferson knew  the  negro  well  when  he  wrote,  "The  slaves 
are  to  be  free,  but  it  is  no  less  certain  that  the  two  races 
equally  free  cannot  live  together  in  the  same  govern- 
ment. Nature,  habit,  opinion  have  drawn  indelible  lines 
of  distinction  between  them."  And  Jefferson  is  called 
the  Great  Apostle  of  Freedom! 

June  23rd.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  describe  the  petty 
mortifications  I  am  obliged  to  undergo  from  day  to  day 
in  this  wearisome  confinement.  Yesterday  I  felt  sad 
and  depressed  because  I  failed  to  get  a  letter,  and  to- 
day I  am  brought  to  the  same  gloomy  feeling  because 
I  failed  to  write  one.  Two  weeks  ago,  I  asked  for  an 
half  sheet  of  paper  to  answer  a  letter  which  I  expected 
to  receive  from  home ;  and  as  I  did  not  get  the  expected 
missive,  I  retained  the  half  sheet  until  I  should  hear 
from  home.  Today  the  Deputy  wanted  to  know  what  I 
did  with  the  half  sheet.  I  produced  it.  "Well,  now  here- 
after when  you  ask  to  write  a  letter,  go  write  it,  and 
don't  put  me  to  this  bother  another  time."  I  naturally 
felt  hurt  and  humiliated  by  this  speech;  for  I  had  in- 
tended no  breach  of  the  rules ;  and  as  Capt.  P.  allows  me 
to  have  2  quires  or  more  of  paper  at  once,  I  saw  nothing 
improper  in  retaining  the  half  sheet  until  I  could  hear 
from  those  who  profess  to  consider  me  a  relation. 

But  in  spite  of  my  earnest  endeavors  to  comply  with 
the  regulations,  and  show  courtesy  towards  the  officers, 
I  am  constantly  being  cut  up  with  these  petty  reproofs 
which  wound  my  feelings  much  more  than  a  blow  could 
do  if  I  was  in  a  position  to  resent  it. 

It  is  astonishing  that  Capt.  Pilsbury  should  treat  me 
courteously  and  considerately  while  his  subordinates  are 
permitted  to  do  exactly  the  reverse. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  391 

One  thing  certain  I  shall  not  ask  for  any  more  paper 
if  I  never  write  another  letter. 

Another  mail  robber  (I.  J.  Hamlin)  was  pardoned 
today.  Grant  seems  determined  that  all  the  rogues  in 
the  country  shall  owe  him  obligations.  The  tyrants  who 
overthrew  the  Roman  and  Grecian  Republics  did  like- 
wise; pardoned  the  public  offenders  and  cultivated  the 
gratitude  of  the  rabble,  until  they  saw  fit  to  assume  the 
purple;  after  which  they  leaned  towards  the  patricians 
and  trampled  on  the  populace. 

June  24th.  R.  B.  Clark,  another  counterfeiter  par- 
doned today.  Political  friends  in  New  York  forced  Gov. 
Dix  to  solicit  his  pardon  of  Grant,  and  the  latter  was 
glad  to  oblige  his  supporter,  as  well  as  to  lay  under  ob- 
ligations a  fellow  who  may  be  of  some  service  as  an  elec- 
tioneer among  the  denizens  of  Five  Points.  Clark  was 
considered  one  of  the  worst  men  here. 

I  do  not  grudge  these  men  their  liberty;  and  indeed, 
I  think  they  ought  to  have  been  released  sooner;  for 
three  years  are  surely  enough  to  punish  a  man  for  a 
first  offense.  But  how  monstrous  is  that  cunning  policy 
which  retails  clemency  to  convicted  criminals,  who 
promise  aid  to  the  dominant  faction;  but  forbids  it  to 
innocent  men  whom  the  conspirators  have  robbed  of 
their  rightful  liberty. 

Deputy  came  up  to  inquire  about  razor  of  C's.  I  did 
not  know  any  thing  about  it.  But  for  all  that  he  must 
search  my  box  as  if  I  would  steal  it.  Of  course  he  did 
not  find  it.  No  one  can  tell  how  much  incensed  I  am  by 
these  insinuations,  notwithstanding  my  resolves  to  the 
contrary.  However  one  can't  be  a  philosopher  when 
racked  by  the  toothache  and  such  small  matters. 

I  have  frequently  remarked  that  military  courts,  and 
special  commissions  to  try  State  prisoners,  are  the  most 
convenient  and  most  arbitrary  instruments  of  our  Re- 
publican (so-called)  Government  for  the  perpetration 
of  the  foulest  injustice  and  persecution.  Let  me  now 
record  an  instance  of  which  I  have  been  informed  for  a 
considerable  time  but  which  is  now  brought  forcibly  to 
mind  by  the  approaching  death  of  the  victim. 

Saml.  O.  Berry  (the  son  of  a  man  in  humble  circum- 


392  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

stances)  born  at  Liberty,  Clay  Co.  Mo.  in  the  Spring 
of  1839.  When  6  years  old  he  lost  his  mother  and  was 
then  removed  by  his  father  to  Kentucky  where  he  was 
bound  apprentice  to  a  good  old  Shaker  in  Shaker  town, 
Mercer  County.  In  his  13th  year  he  ran  away  from  his 
straitlaced  guardians  and  went  to  Louisville  but  subse- 
quently returned  to  the  country,  and  rejoined  his  father. 
In  1862  Berry  joined  the  Confederate  Army — Grigs- 
by's   Ky.   Cavalry.   In   1864,   when  the   Confederates 
evacuated  the  Kentucky  borders,  he  was  sent  into  that 
State  to  bring  out  deserters,  and  stragglers,  and  to  dam- 
age the  enemy  in  every  way  in  his  power  consistently 
with  the  laws  of  war.  Kentucky  was  full  of  absentees 
from  the  Confederate  Army  who  were  unable  to  rejoin 
their  commands  owing  to  the  vigilance  of  the  Federal 
outposts;  and  among  these  Berry  soon  arranged  a  sys- 
tem of  depredations  on  the  enemy  which  gained  him  a 
wide  reputation  for  daring  and  activity,  as  well  as  for 
cruelty.  Respecting  this  portion  of  Berry's  career  I 
know  nothing  more  than  he  tells  me ;  but  as  he  is  aware 
that  his  end  is  near  at  hand,  and  as  he  professes  the  sin- 
cerest  piety,  I  am  disposed  to  credit  his  asseverations  that 
he  never  countenanced  the  excesses  which  disgraced  the 
partizan  warfare  of  the  "dark  and  bloody  ground"  nor 
did  he  permit  of  such  excesses  by  the  men  under  his 
immediate  command.  Many  crimes  were,  however,  at- 
tributed to  him;  and  when  the  war  closed  his  friends 
counselled  him  to  fly  from  the  country.  He  considered 
himself  protected  by  his  Confederate  commission;  and 
Genl.  Palmer   (the  Federal  Commandant  of  the  Dis- 
trict) was  evidently  of  the  same  opinion,  as  he  admitted 
Berry  to  the  regular  parole  on  the  30th  day  of  May 
1865,  and  sent  Him  word  that  he  should  not  be  molested 
so  long  as  he  behaved  himself.  Yet  on  the  7th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1865,  a  squad  of  cavalry  under  Maj.  Wilson,  led 
by  a  false  friend  of  Berry's  surprised  him,  and  carried 
him  to  Louisville  to  be  tried  for  murder.  The  court  met 
in  January  and  consisted  of  Maj.  Genl.  Palmer  and 
Jeff  C.  Davis,  Maj.  Collins,  Lieut  Burns,  and  others, 
with  Major  Wm.  Coyle,  acting  Judge  Advocate.  There 
were  17  different  charges  against  Berry,  but  the  evi- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  393 

dence  was  of  the  most  unreliable  character,  while  sev- 
eral Union  citizens,  including  a  colonel  of  volunteers 
whose  life  had  been  saved  by  Berry's  interference,  came 
forward  voluntarily  to  testify  to  his  magnanimity  to 
prisoners.  But  the  court  (excepting  General  Palmer) 
was  deeply  prejudiced  against  the  prisoner,  and  nothing 
could  save  him.  On  the  first  of  February  1866  he  was 
sentenced  to  be  hung;  and  the  inhuman  jailor  erected 
his  gallows  directly  in  front  of  Berry's  windows  where  it 
stood  for  weeks  to  remind  him  of  his  approaching  doom. 
But  the  victim  was  not  to  perish  so  quickly.  President 
Johnson  commuted  his  sentence  to  ten  years  in  the 
Penitentiary,  dating  from  the  3rd  of  March  1866.  He 
came  here  soon  afterwards;  and  as  evil  report  had  pre- 
ceded him,  was  regarded  as  a  perfect  desperado  by  the 
officers.  Nor  was  he  long  in  getting  into  trouble ;  for  on 
breaking  the  rules  in  some  slight  particular  he  was  re- 
proved so  harshly  that  he  made  an  angry  reply,  and 
was  punished  for  it.  This  made  matters  worse,  and  he 
was  locked  up  in  his  cell  where  he  remained  for  nearly 
seven  years!  He  confesses  that  he  was  wrong  in  yielding 
to  his  anger ;  but  I  can  very  well  see  how  a  high  spirited 
young  man  who  felt  that  he  was  unjustly  imprisoned; 
might  forget  himself  when  unduly  provoked  by  his 
keepers,  especially  when  they  were  imbued  with  a  strong 
prejudice  against  him.  Of  this,  however,  I  have  only  his 
own  statement. 

Time  and  sorrow  and  close  confinement  did  their 
work,  and  now  at  32  years  of  age  Berry  is  dying  an  old 
gray-haired  man!  His  young  wife  died  of  a  broken 
heart,  leaving  him  a  son  whom  he  has  never  seen.  His 
father  also,  died  since  he  came  here.  And  Berry  will  be 
in  the  grave  with  them  in  a  very  few  weeks.  He  was 
fetched  up  to  the  hospital  some  time  ago  but  his  health 
and  spirits  are  so  utterly  broken  that  no  medicine  or 
nursing  can  save  him.  Even  liberty  could  not  benefit 
him  now.  His  intellect  is  almost  as  weak  as  his  body; 
and  he  has  no  energy  whatever.  He  cares  for  nothing 
but  to  lie  and  sleep;  and  yet  sleep  he  cannot  without 
opiates.  There  has  been  unaccountable  opposition  to 
this  poor  fellow's  pardon*  No  less  than  ten  times  has  his 


\ 
\ 


394  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

case  been  reveiwed  by  the  Attorney  General  and  always 
with  an  adverse  report ;  although  the  petition  for  pardon 
was  signed  by  such  men  as  Maj.  Gen.  Thomas,  Gover- 
nor Palmer,  (of  Illinois),  Gov.  Stevenson  (of  Ky.), 
Ex.  Gov.  Bramlette,  Genl.  Ward,  Maj.  Genl.  Rous- 
seau, Geo.  D.  Prentice,  Hon.  J.  J.  Guthrie,  Powell 
Clayton,  etc.  The  last  named  who  married  a  cousin  of 
Berry's  has  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  to  effect  the 
pardon ;  but  in  vain.  The  Government  can  pardon  mur- 
derers, robbers,  and  all  sorts  of  desperadoes;  but  a 
Southerner  who  has  dared  to  signalize  himself  by  deeds 
of  successful  audacity,  must  linger  and  die  in  Northern 
dungeons ! 

Now  in  summing  up  this  statement,  I  know  not  what 
degree  of  guilt  truly  attaches  to  Berry;  but  there  is  no 
doubt  that  he  was  a  Confederate  officer  and  had  a  right 
to  kill,  burn,  and  plunder,  as  best  he  could,  those  who 
were  invading  the  soil  of  his  state.  And  his  magnani- 
mity to  prisoners  seems  to  be  well  established ;  for  Gover- 
nor Palmer  (who  presided  on  his  trial)  recommends 
him  for  pardon  on  that  very  ground.  And  Berry  de- 
clares he  never  killed  but  one  citizen,  and  that  was  in  a 
melee  after  he  had  been  shot  himself. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  he  has  been  for  years  in  so  wretched 
and  sickly  a  condition  that  it  was  inhumanity  to  torture 
him  to  death  by  holding  him  here.  Yet  this  is  precisely 
what  has  been  done ;  and  the  end  is  not  far  off. 

A  LONELY  NIGHT  WATCH 

1873. 

July  lst-14th.  The  past  fortnight  has  been  one 
of  the  most  distressing  of  my  prison  experience.  There 
has  been  so  much  sickness  and  night  watching,  so  much 
irksome  duty  in  connection  with  the  dying,  the  dead, 
and  the  lunatics,  that  I  have  many  times  wished  myself 
back  in  my  solitary  cell,  where  at  least  I  could  sleep  at 
night,  and  have  my  thoughts  to  myself  without  such  dis- 
cordant interruptions  as  continually  distract  me  in  this 
crowded  hospital.  Let  me  speak  of  the  death  of  Oscar 
Berry,  the  one-armed  Kentuckian  of  whom  I  gave  an 
account  in  a  former  entry.  He  had  been  confined  in  a 


The  Shotwell  Papers  395 

cell  for  nearly  seven  years,  when  at  the  eighth  brought 
up  to  this  place  to  die.  Never  have  I  seen  a  similar  spec- 
tacle; for  although  only  about  my  age,  still  under 
twenty-eight,  his  white  hair,  wrinkled  features,  and  de- 
jected air,  made  him  appear  an  old  man  tottering  on  the 
verge  of  the  grave.  Nevertheless  I  believe  he  would 
have  recovered,  and  perhaps  lived  many  years,  but  for 
the  malice  and  meanness  of  two  Yankees.  The  effect  of 
the  change  from  his  silent  cell  to  the  lighter,  warmer, 
and  bright  surroundings  of  the  Hospital,  with  the  com- 
panionship of  a  number  of  convalescents,  was  very  per- 
ceptible; and,  in  a  few  days  he  picked  up  sufficiently  to 
sit  in  a  chair  and  talk  with  old  Mr.  Brown  and  others. 
I  felt  sympathy  for  him  as  a  fellow  Southerner,  and 
sufferer,  a  brave  Confederate  soldier,  and  a  victim  of 
vile  Radicalism;  therefore  made  every  effort  to  arouse 
and  invigorate  his  shattered  mind  and  body;  and,  for 
a  time,  with  much  success.  He  even  began  to  hope,  and 
have  appetite.  Unfortunately  his  cot  adjoined  that  of 
S.  O.  Crawford,  of  Saugerties,  New  York,  a  young 
lawyer,  who  had  been  convicted  of  embezzling  money 
from  Insurance  companies.  Crawford  was  handsome, 
(though  cunning  and  trickery  shone  in  every  feature) 
and  so  plausible  that  Genl.  P.,  on  promoting  me  to  take 
charge  of  the  Hospital  warned  me  against  the  sleek 
young  Yankee  as  one  who  would  give  me  more  trouble 
than  all  the  other  inmates.  I  felt  very  much  tempted 
to  ask  the  General,  in  response  whether  during  the 
eighteen  months  I  was  drudging  in  the  work-shops  I 
had  ever  shown  any  disposition  to  affiliate  with  the  con- 
victs. But  on  second  thought  I  thanked  the  old  gentle- 
man as  if  I  had  taken  his  advice  very  greatly  to  heart. 
And  perhaps  I  was  the  better  for  it,  as  Crawford  needed 
constant  watching.  He  seemed  to  have  no  conception 
of  honor  or  moral  principle.  He  saw  that  Oscar  Berry 
was  weak  in  mind  and  body,  and  instead  of  feeling  pity 
for  a  youth  of  his  own  age,  thus  terribly  wrecked,  he 
exerted  all  his  blandishments  to  secure  an  influence  over 
him  in  order  that  he  might  wheedle  him  out  of  his  money, 
provisions,    (sent  by  friends)   extra  clothing,  etc.;  for 


396  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Berry  had  wealthy  relatives  who  kept  him  well  supplied 
with  everything  the  prison  rules  will  admit  of. 

I  saw  from  the  first,  the  "little  game"  of  the  swindler; 
but  as  Berry  needed  nursing  and  coddling,  all  of  which 
Crawford  gladly  performed  in  order  to  ingratiate  him- 
self with  his  victim,  I  did  not  interfere.  About  a  month 
ago  Crawford  was  discharged,  and  left  Berry  under 
the  belief  that  he  should  hasten  at  once  to  Washington 
and  exert  all  the  influence  of  his  "Uncle,"  Gen.  Craw- 
ford of  Phila.,  and  others,  to  get  a  re-hearing  of  Berry's 
application  for  pardon.  So  great  was  Berry's  belief  in 
the  truthfulness  of  Crawford's  marvelous  tales  and 
promises  that  he  presented  the  latter  a  fine  pair  of 
cavalry  boots  (cost  $18)  and  also,  a  variety  of  smaller 
articles,  books,  etc.  sent  to  him  during  the  long  years 
of  his  solitary  confinement. 

Berry's  hopefulness  was  so  confident  I  thought  of 
warning  him  against  disappointment;  but  had  I  not 
been  doing  all  I  could  to  cheer  him,  and  would  not  this 
be  counteracting  my  own  efforts  ? 

Disappointment  came  soon  enough.  During  the  first 
week  after  Crawford's  departure,  Berry  watched  the 
door  like  a  cat  at  a  mouse  hole,  expecting  the  Deputy  to 
enter  with  a  box,  or  package.  It  never  came ;  and  at  the 
end  of  two  weeks  he  began  to  realize  that  he  had  been 
again  deceived.  For  several  days  he  tried  to  conceal  his 
chagrin,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  he  had  relapsed  into  his 
listlessness. 

Then  came  two  other  disappointments.  His  friends  in 
Missouri  had  sent  him  two  boxes  of  edibles.  One  was 
entirely  lost:  the  other  came  and  was  opened  by  Berry 
with  great  impatience.  Every  article  was  mildewed  and 
decayed;  the  box  having  been  delayed  for  weeks  on  the 
road !  The  other  disappointment  was  a  letter  from  Con- 
gressman Powell  Clayton  who  married  Berry's  cousin, 
stating  that  the  tenth,  and  final  effort  to  obtain  a  pardon 
for  him  had  failed  utterly,  as  Secretary  of  War  W.  W. 
Belknap  was  even  more  embittered  against  him  than 
was  Jo.  Holt. 

I  tried  to  rouse  his  drooping  spirits,  by  telling  him  he 
had  only  18  months  yet  to  serve,  and  though  his  wife, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  397 

and  his  father  were  dead,  he  had  still  his  young  son  to 
live  for,  and  a  brother's  home  to  go  to;  and  above  all 
he  had  his  own  name  to  vindicate,  and  his  enemies  to 
punish.  But  he  was  now  too  far  gone  to  feel  the  in- 
fluence of  any  appeal  whatsoever.  He  admitted  that  he 
ought  to  try  and  live,  but  said  there  was  no  longer  any 
hope  of  surviving  his  term  of  service,  therefore  the 
sooner  he  were  out  of  the  way  the  less  he  should  suffer. 

One  day  he  remarked,  "It  is  not  long  now  until  the 
Fourth  of  July.  But  then  what  does  it  matter?  I've  seen 
my  last  Fourth  of  July  dinner."  I  made  some  jocose 
reply;  but  he  persisted  in  a  melancholy  tone  that  he 
should  never  live  to  see  another  4th  of  July ;  and  strange 
to  say  his  words  were  prophetic !  On  the  first  of  July  he 
went  to  bed,  and  shortly  afterwards  relapsed  into  a 
comatose  condition,  alive  and  breathing  heavily,  but  un- 
conscious. I  watched  by  his  bedside  all  night  on  the  1st, 
half  the  night  on  the  2nd,  and  again  all  night  on  the 
third,  my  assistant  being  himself  sick.  This  night  was 
a  sorrowful  one,  indeed!  Outside  the  prison  all  was 
jollity.  The  uproar,  the  banging  of  guns,  pistols,  and 
fire-crackers  began  at  sunset  on  the  3rd,  and  was  kept 
up  all  the  night  long.  The  echoes  of  the  great  city,  riot- 
ing in  its  annual  saturnalia  of  saltpetre,  fire  works, 
shouting,  shooting,  drunkenness  and  demagoguery, 
were  strangely  in  contrast  with  the  sad  scene  in  this 
prison  hospital,  where  I  sat  watching  the  death  throes 
of  two  men.  The  other  patients  had  all  fallen  asleep, 
the  lights  were  toned  down,  and  I  sat  on  the  broad  win- 
dow ledge,  clinging  with  one  arm  around  the  bars,  to 
hold  myself  in  position,  for  the  night  was  warm  and 
there  was  little  draught  in  the  hospital  when  the  doors 
were  all  locked  on  us  at  night.  But  the  room  being  on  the 
upper  story  had  full  access  for  the  sounds  and  ex- 
plosions of  the  surrounding  suburbs;  very  different 
from  the  cells  into  which  nothing  less  thundering  than 
a  cannon  could  penetrate. 

Slowly  the  hours  crept  past,  and  the  clock  on  the  city 
tower  pealed  the  noon  of  night.  As  the  chimes  ceased,  a 
strain  of  superb  music  (vocal  with  instrumental  accom- 
paniment) swelled  upon  the  night  breeze  with  thrilling 


398  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

effect.  A  large  company  of  singers,  probably  some  Glee 
Club,  had  taken  position  on  a  flat  roof  of  a  very  high 
building  in  the  centre  of  the  "Hill"  section  of  the  city 
to  greet  the  dawning  anniversary  with  anthems  and  car- 
rols.  The  voices  were  very  strong  and  through  the  high, 
sashless  windows,  accompanied  by  instruments,  and,  as 
it  were,  scented  by  the  perfumes  of  the  rich  gardens  of 
the  adjacent  residences,  it  seemed  unreal,  supernatural! 
Certainly  I  never  was  so  affected — spell-bound — by  any 
kind  of  music  before.  The  anthem  was  grand,  the  carol 
delightful;  and  for  the  moment  I  forgot  that  I  was 
clinging  in  the  third-story  window  of  a  Penitentiary 
hospital  to  listen  to  it !  But  when  silence  came  there  was 
a  painful  revulsion.  A  low  moan  from  the  beds  caused 
me  to  glide  noiselessly  to  the  two  sick  men;  and  lo! 
Oscar's  eyes  were  open  (for  the  first  time  in  three  days) 
and  his  head  turned  as  if  listening  to  the  strains  of  music ! 
Did  he  mistake  it  for  celestial  harmonies?  We  cannot 
know.  For  even  as  I  watched  his  haggard  face,  he 
breathed  a  long  sad  sigh  and  breath  passed  forever  from 
his  lips! 

He  had  spoken  truly ;  he  did  not  live  to  see  the  dawn 
of  another  Fourth  of  July,  though  very  nearly  thereto. 

Ascertaining  that  Berry  was  really  dead  I  aroused 
my  assistant,  and  we  proceeded  to  perform  the  dis- 
agreeable duties  so  often  required  of  us  this  year.  (The 
body  must  be  stripped,  wrapped  in  an  old  sheet,  and 
lifted  out  upon  the  floor  of  the  hospital,  and  straight- 
ened: there  to  be  left  until  six  o'clock  next  morning, 
when  the  doors  are  unlocked  and  a  coffin  can  be  sent 
for). 

Considerable  time  was  taken  in  paying  these  last 
duties  to  the  dead  (for  I  wished  to  show  all  the  respect 
to  poor  Berry  that  would  be  allowed  me,  and  therefore 
had  him  dressed  in  a  new  suit  of  underclothing,  and  not 
sent  away  as  are  the  generality  of  the  dead  prisoners, 
nearly  nude)  so  that  the  grey  glimmer  of  dawn  crept 
in  as  we  were  composing  the  corpse  on  the  floor.  A  tre- 
mendous explosion  of  artillery,  accompanied  by  clash- 
ing cymbals,  drums,  brass-bands,  and  all  manner  of  re- 
ports of  burnt  powder,  together  with  the  clangor  of  an 


The  Shotwell  Papers  399 

hundred  church  bells  at  this  moment  shook  and  roused 
the  city  to  greet  the  "Anniversary  of  Freedom,"  the 
"Glorious  Fourth,"  "The  Day  We  Celebrate!" 

Amid  the  uproar  I  stood  looking  down  upon  the 
mutilated  remains  of  the  young  Southerner,  who  had 
given,  first,  his  time,  his  services,  his  right  arm,  for  the 
cause  of  his  countrymen  and  now,  at  last,  after  eight 
years  of  suffering,  in  ignominious  solitude  and  confine- 
ment, yielded  up  his  shattered  remnants  of  life!  What 
a  savage  satire  was  this  death  amid  the  shouts  and  riot- 
ing of  the  blind  and  prejudiced  people  of  the  North, 
in  so-called  celebration  of  "Universal  Liberty,"  "Na- 
tional Independence,"  "The  Best  of  Governments!"  To 
think,  too,  that  on  this  day,  we,  helpless  prisoners  (I 
refer  to  the  Southern  political  prisoners) — should  be 
forced  to  attend  services  in  the  Chapel  (such  as  I  de- 
scribed in  connection  with  the  last  year's  Fourth)  and 
sit,  surrounded  by  hideous  malefactors,  to  listen  to  silly 
speeches  in  panegyric  of  "Our  Noble  Rulers,"  "Our 
Grand  Republic,"  "Our  wise,  just,  paternal,  and  peer- 
less government!"  Yea,  and  our  "great  and  good  Presi- 
dent, Ulysses  S.  Grant!"  What  mockery!  What  a 
shame ! 

At  breakfast  time  four  convicts  came  into  the  Hos- 
pital with  the  usual  pine  box  by  courtesy  called  a  coffin. 
Would  it  not  be  well,  I  asked  the  Deputy,  to  hold  the 
body  until  Berry's  friends  can  be  notified?  "Never  you 
mind  about  that!"  was  the  gruff  answer,  as  the  men 
scraped  a  few  shavings  into  the  end  of  the  coffin  as  a 
pillow,  stretched  the  body  thereon,  and  nailed  it  down, 
and  bore  it  away. 

Meantime  the  other  sick  man,  (Dwyer)  who  had 
watched  us  lift  Berry's  body  from  the  bed,  became  so 
frightened  at  the  scene,  and  the  realization  of  his  own 
approaching  end,  that  Jie  fell  into  convulsions,  and 
began  to  struggle  and  rave,  screaming  that  "I  aint 
agoing  to  die!  Oh!  I  aint  a-going  to  die!  Berry's  got  the 
box! .  .  ." 

[Two  pages  are  here  cut  out.] 

After  being  taken  abed  he  called  me  and  said,  "I 
never  have  bothered  you  much  have  I?"  "Not  much, 


400  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Dwyer;  what  do  you  want?"  "Well,  you  see,  Steward, 
I'm  on  my  last  pegs,  an'  its  a  tight  race  betwixt  me  an' 
the  capting  over  yonder  who'll  die  fust  (alluding  to 
Berry),  but  it  looks  like  I  wus  gwine  a  leetle  ahead. 
Now,  you  see,  my  wife,  she  sent  me  here,  'cos  she 
wanted  to  live  with  another  feller  (this  was  the  truth  I 
suspect )  an'  she  wouldn't  never  come  a  nigh  me  all  these 
whiles,  but  I  hear  she's  a  coming  ter-morrow,  'cos  she 
knows  my  time  is  out  in  nine  days,  and  she's  afeard  I'll 
come  and  play  smash  'round  her  an'  her  feller.  But  I 
reckon  I  won't  git  ter  live  a-til  my  time's  out,  so  I  want 
you  ter  promise,  steward,  you'll  bundle  up  my  clothes, 
especially  this  yer  new  undershirt,  an'  either  burn  'em, 
or  give  them  to  that  black  nigger  what  brings  the  din- 
ner, 'cos  my  wife,  she'll  be  a-comin'  ter  git  my  clothes, 
and  it  would  a-most  kill  me  ter  think  of  that  feller  o' 
hern  wearing  my  shirts  an'  things!" 

I  should  have  been  amused  at  the  poor  creatures 
anxiety  to  prevent  his  effects  from  going  to  his  wife's 
paramour  had  I  not  so  plainly  perceived  the  sign  of 
Death's  shadows  in  his  eyes.  It  seemed  a  terrible  and  un- 
natural thing  that  such  thoughts  should  occupy  a  human 
mind  at  the  very  moment  of  the  passage  behind  the  veil 
of  Eternity.  But  these  waifs  from  the  slums  have  no  in- 
stincts higher  than  a  brute's. 

****** 

1873. 

July,  14th-15th.  The  gruffness  and  rudeness  of 
the  Deputy  Superintendent  makes  me  almost  con- 
stantly miserable.  He  doesn't  like  to  see  me  studying, 
strange  as  it  may  seem;  and  often  times  he  slips  up 
stairs  in  his  noiseless  cloth-slippers  to  surprise  us  and 
if  possible  to  catch  me  in  some  infraction  of  the  rules 
or  some  negligence  of  duties,  so  that  he  may  have  an 
excuse  for  depriving  me  of  my  books,  paper,  and  pen- 
cil. Do  I  do  him  injustice  in  this?  I  think  not;  for  when- 
ever he  finds  me  poring  over  my  law  books,  or  studying 
French,  or  practicing  Phonography,  he  perceptibly 
frowns,  and  never  fails  to  order  me  to  attend  to  some- 
thing; or  he  scolds  me  for  not  doing  this  or  that.  It  is 
rarely  he  finds  things  as  he  wishes  them  and  no  matter 


The  Shotwell  Papers  401 

how  I  might  arrange  them,  he  would  not  want  them 
that  way.  For  example,  he  just  now  has  ordered  me 
(having  found  me  immersed  in  my  grammar)  to  turn 
the  blankets  on  the  whole  row  of  cots,  putting  the  under 
side  uppermost.  It  is  not  at  all  probable  that  he  really 
wants  them  thus,  because  they  are  not  meant  for  it, 
but  he  thereby  breaks  up  my  studying,  and  gets  a 
chance  to  hurt  my  feelings  by  his  gruff,  "See  that  you 
attend  to  it  right  away;  and  keep  this  place  looking 
more  in  trim." 

Often  and  often  I  am  tempted  to  pitch  my  books 
into  the  fire,  and  give  up  all  thought  of  saving  myself 
from  the  insanity  which  must  surely  overtake  me  during 
the  dreary  years  before  me  if  I  do  not  seek  to  streng- 
then my  mind  by  study,  and  at  the  same  time  divert  it 
from  the  gloomy  brooding  over  my  wrongs  which  every 
moment  would  return  and  take  possession  of  my  soul. 
But  if  I  give  up  books  and  pencil  shall  I  not  also  give 
up  all  hope  of  teaching  my  enemies  that  they  may  slan- 
der, villify,  and  imprison,  but  cannot  crush  or  ruin? 
I  must  go  on,  and  try  to  endure  all  things  that  good 
may  come. 

'Squire  Sam  Brown  received  a  letter  on  Sunday 
which  depresses  him  greatly:  so  much  that  he  has  taken 
his  bed  fancying  himself  sick.  The  circumstances  are 
certainly  aggravating.  It  will  be  remembered  that  an 
unprincipled  demagogue  named  A.  S.  Wallace  holds 
the  seat  (to  which  he  was  not  elected)  belonging  to 
the  congressional  district  of  which  York  County  is  a 
part.  Wallace,  therefore,  is  Representative,  in  fact, 
though  not  in  right,  of  Brown's  district  and  is  looked 
upon  as  one  of  the  most  prominent  of  the  villainous 
coalition  of  Carpetbaggers  and  Scalawags  who  have 
so  long  plundered  the  Prostrate  State.  Wallace  is  still 
further  strengthened  by  the  office  of  United  States 
Marshal  for  South  Carolina;  the  title  being  held  by 
his  son,  but  the  power  (and  it  is  an  autocratic  power 
much  greater  than  Queen  Victoria  ever  exercises)  is 
virtually  in  the  hands  of  the  unscrupulous  old  rascal 
in  York.  The  latter,  it  may  be  remarked,  is  a  neighbor 
of  'Squire  Brown,  and  is  indebted  to  him  for  many 


402  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

friendly  deeds  in  former  days  when  Wallace  was  one 
of  the  bitterest  of  "fire-eaters,"  and  slave-drivers.  Yet 
no  man  has  shown  a  more  vindictive  spirit  in  pursuing 
and  persecuting  his  neighbors.  Several  months  ago 
Brown's  friends  recognized  the  power  possessed  by 
"Ass"  Wallace  (as  he  is  almost  universally  styled  in 
South  Carolina)  through  his  stolen  seat  at  Washing- 
ton, urged  the  old  man  to  make  overtures  to  Wallace, 
and  seek  to  propitiate  him,  etc.  Finally  in  a  fit  of  home- 
sickness, the  'Squire  wrote  a  very  humble  letter  appeal- 
ing to  the  fraudulent  Congressman  to  remember  old 
fellowships,  and  not  bear  hard  feelings,  but  lend  his  in- 
fluence in  behalf  of  the  efforts  now  being  made  to  se- 
cure his  own  release  from  prison,  as  his  family  were 
sorely  distressed  and  in  need  of  his  assistance.  Members 
of  Brown's  family  also,  went  to  Wallace  almost  upon 
their  knees.  Each  time  the  old  thief  became  very  vol- 
uble in  "promises,"  but  always  had  some  excuse  for 
delaying  immediate  action.  Of  course  none  was  taken. 
About  three  weeks  ago,  Brown  received  a  letter  from 
one  J.  D.  Ottz,  a  secret  service  agent,  well  known  at 
Raleigh  and  Charlotte,  stating  that  he  had  seen  Presi- 
dent Grant  and  held  his  explicit  promise  that  if  Brown's 
friends  would  get  up  a  petition  and  have  it  signed  by 
the  neighbors,  he  would  issue  a  pardon  for  him.  Ottz 
suggested  the  petition  be  sent  to  himself  by  the  1st  of 
July,  and  he  would  lose  no  time  in  reminding  Grant 
of  his  promise.  Squire  Brown  was  now  in  high  feather. 
His  friends  speedily  got  up  the  petition,  and  had  a 
number  of  well  known  Republican's  names  on  it.  Hear- 
ing of  the  movement,  the  wily  Wallace  called  on 
Brown's  friends,  expressed  great  gratification,  and,  of 
course,  got  possession  of  the  petition ;  promising  to  for- 
ward it  by  next  mail  accompanied  by  private  recom- 
mendations, etc.  All  these  details  were  promptly  writ- 
ten to  the  old  man,  who  for  the  first  time  yielded  im- 
plicit credence  to  the  assurances  of  his  family  that  he 
would  be  at  home  in  a  fortnight  or  so!  Weeks  went  by, 
and  nothing  was  heard  of  the  release.  Finally  after  the 
"1st  of  July/'  (the  limit  which  Ottz  had  set  as  the  latest 
date  at  which  he  could  be  able  to  assist  in  the  matter), 


The  Shotwell  Papers  403 

Wallace  admitted  he  had  never  sent  the  petition,  and 
really  could  not  think  of  signing  it,  as  it  "might  cause 
a  fuss  among  his  Party!"  Could  anything  be  more  base, 
treacherous,  and  malicious?  The  result  is  that  all  the 
'Squire's  dreams  of  speedy  return  to  his  grieving  wife, 
and  unprotected  daughters,  have  melted  in  thin  air, 
and  the  disappointment  is  very  severe  upon  him;  es- 
pecially as  he  has  been  roughly  treated  of  late,  by  the 
Deputy  and  his  Overseer.  He  is  a  good  hearted,  easy- 
dispositioned,  old  man,  accustomed  to  a  good  deal  of 
petting  among  his  friends  and  relatives  and  it  seems  im- 
possible for  him  to  recollect  that  he  is  an  utter  stranger 
here,  a  prisoner  on  the  footing  of  a  felon,  and  as  much 
subject  to  the  strict  discipline  as  the  vilest  negro  or 
thief  in  the  Prison  gang.  This  forgetfulness  causes  him 
many  a  moment  of  pain  and  mortification;  for  the  un- 
derstrappers nearly  all  dislike  him. 

Another  crazy  negro  has  been  brought  into  the  hos- 
pital to  give  trouble.  I  shall  soon  have  a  small  mad- 
house under  my  charge.  Large  numbers  of  demented 
creatures  are  unjustly  convicted  every  year,  for  in- 
stead of  being  sent  to  the  Penitentiary  they  ought  to 
have  permanent  confinement  in  an  insane  asylum.  Sur- 
geon Haskins  tells  me  there  is  no  question  that  many 
magistrates  send  half-witted  men  to  this  Prison  solely 
to  get  rid  of  them.  The  law  requires  that  when  a  pris- 
oner shows  signs  of  insanity  he  shall  be  placed  in  the 
prison  hospital  under  treatment  of  the  Surgeon,  for  a 
stated  period ;  not  less  than  three  months  I  believe.  Thus 
it  is  that  we  have  at  all  times,  two  or  three  lunatics 
among  the  inmates;  for  there  are  new  victims  of  de- 
mentia every  month  or  so. 

1873. 

July  16th.  At  noon  today  the  engine  blew  off 
steam,  the  great  wheels  ceased  to  revolve,  the  roar  of 
the  machinery  grew  still,  the  convicts  were  marched  to 
their  cells,  and  locked  within;  and  the  noisy  prison  sud- 
denly became  as  quiet  as  the  Sabbath! 

This  half -day  of  rest  was  in  respect  to  the  obsequies 
of  the  late  Superintendent,  old  Genl.  Amos  Pilsbury, 
who  died  yesterday  morning.  He  had  been  in  ill-health 


404  The  North  Carolina  Historical   Commission 

for  a  long  time,  suffering  from  internal  disorders  which 
gave  him  no  ease  except  when  under  the  influence  of 
morphine.  The  last  time  he  visited  the  Hospital  he 
asked  me  to  lend  him  my  arm  to  descend  the  long  flight 
of  stairs  leading  to  the  Main  Hall  and  remarked  as  we 
passed  down  that  he  should  never  ascend  them  again. 
It  seems  his  utterance  was  prophetic. 

It  is  perhaps  unusual  for  a  prisoner  to  feel  any 
special  interest  in  the  lives  of  his  keepers,  particularly 
under  a  rigid  discipline  such  as  prevails  here,  but  I  cer- 
tainly very  greatly  regret  the  loss  of  the  old  General; 
for  he  was,  I  think,  really  well  intentioned  towards  me 
and  would  gladly  have  set  me  free  at  any  moment,  if 
he  might;  or  would  grant  me  many  privileges  if  he 
could  have  done  so  without  relaxing  the  impartial  dis- 
cipline essential  to  the  system  of  the  Institution. 

He  possessed  many  noble  traits  of  character ;  and  one 
of  the  greatest  was  his  confidence  in  human  nature,  not- 
withstanding his  forty  five  (45)  years  as  a  Prison- 
Keeper,  during  which  time  he  must  have  seen  more  of 
the  wild,  wayward,  and  wicked  side  of  society  than  any 
other  man  of  the  time. 

Yet  his  latest  public  appearance  was  at  an  Interna- 
tional Congress  for  the  Reformation  of  Prisoners,  and 
his  latest  publications  were  written  in  behalf  of  the 
same  object.  His  views  were  so  just  and  compassionate, 
I  draw  large  extracts  from  them  in  my  articles  on 
"Prisoner's  Aid  Associations." 

July  17th.  Began  the  day  with  a  severe  struggle 
with  one  of  my  crazy  negro  patients.  The  Deputy  di- 
rects me  to  make  him  stay  in  his  bed.  At  breakfast  time, 
the  darkey,  who  I  sometimes  think  is  by  no  means  so 
crazy  as  he  pretends,  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  galloped 
round  the  hall  like  a  wild  man.  I  ordered  him  back  to 
his  bed,  and  on  his  refusing  to  go,  took  him  firmly  by 
the  arm  to  lead  him.  Instantly  the  negro  seized  me  by 
both  arms  and  tried  to  bite  me  with  a  very  formidable 
set  of  grinders.  He  was  not  so  large  as  myself,  but  had 
better  muscles,  and  probably  derived  the  unnatural 
strength  of  frenzy  which  makes  lunatics  dangerous. 
However  I  succeeded  in  mastering  him  after  a  prolonged 


The  Shotwell  Papers  405 

struggle  in  which  my  clothing  was  much  torn,  and  my 
temper  almost  torn  to  tatters  also.  Having  securely  tied 
him  hands  and  feet  I  placed  him  in  bed,  set  another 
negro  to  feed  him  with  a  spoon;  and  then  spent  half  an 
hour  trying  to  get  rid  of  the  peculiar  odor  d'Afrique 
which  tainted  hands  and  clothing  from  contact  with  the 
fellow.  Then,  for  an  hour  I  deliberated  whether  it  were 
not  better  to  take  the  vial  of  prussic  acid  which  was 
among  my  medicine  stores,  and  get  rid  at  once  and  for- 
ever of  these  terrible  humiliations — nursing  filthy  fel- 
ons, all  the  night,  and  tussling  with  negro  lunatics  by 
day!  True,  it  was  only  doing  my  duty  according  to  the 
requirements  of  my  situation;  but  unfortunately  duty 
is  merely  moral  whereas  the  sense  of  mortification,  in- 
dignity, and  disgust  is  natural! 

A   NARROW   ESCAPE 

July  18th.  A  very  disagreeable  night.  I  sat  up  till 
midnight,  and  I  was  rather  afraid  to  leave  my  brace  of 
crazy  men  so  long  as  they  were  awake.  Indeed  until 
near  midnight  there  was  no  sleep  for  any  of  us,  as  the 
lunatics  were  alternately  singing,  screaming,  praying 
and  cursing  in  a  fearful  manner.  Several  times  the 
guards  came  up  the  stairs  from  the  Main  Hall  to  de- 
mand the  silencing  of  the  outcries,  but  I  told  them  noth- 
ing could  be  done  save  killing  them,  and  there  was  no 
"Rule"  for  that,  even  in  Albany  Penitentiary.  How- 
ever about  twelve  o'clock  A.  M.  I  went  to  my  cot.  The 
gas  was  turned  low,  but  not  so  much  so  that  I  could 
not  see  the  other  beds.  Every  inmate  was  quiet,  and 
from  the  sounds  of  snoring  all  were  asleep.  Wearied 
by  repeated  night  watching,  I  quickly  fell  into  the  same 
condition.  It  was  not  "so  very"  far  from  being  my  last 
long  sleep.  For  towards  morning  I  became  conscious 
of  heavy  breathing  near  my  face,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment heard  an  outcry  from  one  of  the  convalescents. 
The  crazy  negro,  Johnston,  had  slipped  his  handcuffs, 
loosened  his  straps,  and  slipping  down  to  the  sinks  got 
one  of  the  twelve-pound  iron  "dumb  bells,"  which  I  had, 
as  I  thought,  securely  concealed!  With  this  fearful 
weapon  in  his  hand,  he  crawled  on  all-fours  under  the 


406  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

long  row  of  cots  until  he  came  to  mine,  which  was  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  Hall.  He  then  crept  upright,  and  was 
about  to  make  a  cat-like  pounce  upon  me,  perhaps  to 
brain  me  at  a  blow  with  the  heavy  bolt,  when  simulta- 
neously I  opened  my  eyes,  and  he  was  diverted  by  the 
cry  of  the  men  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

I  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  partially  dressed  myself, 
while  telling  Jones  to  arouse  old  Squire  Brown,  and 
two  or  three  of  the  convalescents.  As  soon  as  they  were 
up,  I  went  to  the  lunatic,  who  had  gone  to  the  side  of 
the  Hall,  and  was  hammering  at  a  window.  Seeing  there 
was  no  use  of  wasting  words  I  seized  him,  and  the  others 
rushed  in  to  help  me;  and  their  assistance  was  needed, 
for  the  fellow  seemed  made  of  iron.  However  we  over- 
powered him,  and  restored  his  shackles;  and  strapped 
him  to  the  bed.  During  the  entire  procedure  he  raved 
and  cursed  frightfully,  declaiming  against  me  as  "that 
Damned  Steward/'  whom  he  meant  to  kill  at  the  first 
opportunity ! 

After  this  delightful  midnight  episode  I  did  not  feel 
composed  for  a  renewal  of  my  nap;  and  today  I  feel 
weak,  sick,  and  worn  out.  And  yet,  with  these  sights 
and  sounds  before  me,  how  grateful  I  ought  to  feel  for 
the  mens  sano  in  sano  corpore,  the  sound  mind,  in  a 
sound  body! 

July  19th.  Deputy  Scripture  ordered  me,  if  the 
lunatics  gave  trouble  to  handcuff  them  with  their  arms 
around  the  pillars  in  the  center  of  the  Hall.  I  did  this 
once,  but  the  poor  creature  thus  bound  seemed  to  suf- 
fer so  much  from  his  constrained  posture  that  I  dis- 
liked to  repeat  it.  I  determined  to  strap  him  securely  in 
bed,  hoping  he  would  soon  fall  asleep.  (I  refer  particu- 
larly to  the  darkey  Johnston,  as  the  others  gave  trouble 
only  at  intervals  of  several  days)  Johnston  is  very  cun- 
ning— so  much  so  that  I  sometimes  doubt  his  insanity 
— pretended  to  go  to  sleep  at  once.  Nevertheless  I 
watched  him  for  a  long  time,  resting  on  my  elbow  on 
my  own  cot  in  a  position  to  see  his.  Sleep  eventually 
overpowered  me,  and  the  darkey  began  to  free  himself. 
He  gnawed  his  arm  ropes,  slipped  his  handcuffs,  untied 
his  feet,  and  gently  slid  down  upon  the  floor.  He  first 


The  Shotwell  Papers  407 

devoted  himself  to  hiding  his  handcuffs,  and  succeeded 
so  well  that  we  haven't  yet  found  them.  He  then  un- 
locked the  key  of  the  Pantry  and  was  hunting  for  a 
knife  when  one  of  the  convalescents  who  had  been  afraid 
to  give  the  alarm  previously  called  me  to  the  front. 
I  now  resorted  to  the  more  severe  measures  of  tying  his 
arms  behind  his  back,  and  strapping  him  as  before.  It 
was,  of  course,  not  possible  for  him  to  rest  easily  in  such 
a  posture,  but  it  seemed  more  humane  than  to  force 
him  to  sit  on  the  hard  floor  with  his  arms  around  a  post. 
Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  here  that  it  is  not  the  fault  of 
the  prison  authorities  that  these  poor  creatures  are  thus 
treated.  They  were  sent  here  by  the  legal  authorities, 
and  must  be  confined  in  some  manner,  else  they  will 
surely  kill  some  one,  perhaps  themselves,  perhaps  my- 
self, perhaps  some  helpless  sick  man  in  the  adjoining 
cots.  The  real  blame  and  shame  consists  in  the  original 
conviction  of  such  men. 

Have  just  been  down  to  the  guard  room  to  see  Aunt 
Susie,  Cousin  Lizzie  D wight,  and  Rev.  Dr.  S.  who  had 
written  to  notify  me  they  were  coming;  but  as  their 
note  was  not  given  me,  I  knew  nothing  of  it,  and  was 
taken  so  unawares  that  I  felt  rather  flurried.  However 
they  seemed  so  affectionate  I  was  soon  at  ease,  though 
it  was  hard  thus  to  meet  my  Northern  relatives  after 
fifteen  years  of  non-intercourse,  I  in  the  striped  jacket 
of  a  convict  and  with  an  armed  guard  standing  over  me 
throughout  the  interview.  I  must  say,  though,  that  Dep- 
uty Scripture  showed  some  courtesy  in  pretending  to 
be  busily  looking  over  the  books  as  we  talked,  instead 
of  watching  us.  He  also  "passed"  to  me  several  books, 
pictures,  etc.,  which  Auntie  had  brought  for  me,  with- 
out searching  through  them  for  notes  as  he  usually  does. 
Cousin  Lizzie  is  the  same  jolly,  plump  and  pretty  little 
woman  whom  I  first  met  in  Penna.  in  my  school  days. 
She  pressed  me  to  make  them  a  visit  on  my  release,  if 
that  ever  should  happen,  but  it  is  not  at  all  likely  I  shall 
ever  do  so.  Her  husband  she  says  is  a  strong  Republican 
and  "all  the  Dwights  have  been  Abolitionists. "  She 
need  not  have  told  me  so  much;  it  was  enough  to  say 
that  William  Dwight  is  editor  of  a  New  England  Re- 


408  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

publican  journal!  All  birds  of  that  feather  have  a  pro- 
fessional doctrine  which  binds  them  to  abuse  and  de- 
nounce the  South,  and  Southerners,  "regardless!" 

Notwithstanding,  I  was  gratified  at  the  visit,  and  I 
think  I  showed  them  a  feeble  glimmer  of  the  truth.  For 
if  they  came  to  compassionate  me,  as  a  convict,  or 
wrong-doer,  they  soon  learned  I  would  accept  no  sym- 
pathy which  was  not  based  on  a  full  acknowledgement 
that  I  am  suffering  from  political  malice,  and  not  from 
any  crime  of  my  own. 
Sunday. 

July  20th.  Another  of  the  crazy  men  slipped  his 
handcuffs  last  night  and  gave  me  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.  I  have  twice  spoken  to  the  Deputy  about  these 
men,  who  ought  to  be  sent  to  the  Asylum,  or  placed  in 
the  cells  specially  fitted  for  them.  There  are  four  of 
such  cells  in  the  "East  Wing,"  but  it  is  reported  that 
all  are  full!  The  negroes  seem  to  furnish  the  majority 
of  new  cases,  and  the  reason  is  easily  understood  by 
physicians. 

"No  letters"  again  this  week!  It  seems  useless  for 
me  to  vow  I  will  not  yield  to  disappointment;  for  each 
Sunday  morning  finds  me  on  the  alert  as  usual,  and 
perfectly  certain  of  some  word  from  some  friend  this 
time !  But,  of  course,  it  is  merely  repeating  the  pang  of 
disappointment  and  chagrin.  It  is  not  easy  for  one  at 
my  age  to  bring  himself  to  admit  that  he  has  no  friends, 
nor  any  to  feel  an  interest  in  him;  but  "Out  of  sight,  out 
of  mind."  So  be  it;  I'll  learn  in  time  to  measure  as  is 
now  meted  to  me.  After  all,  the  main  motive  of  my  crav- 
ing for  letters  is  to  obtain  news  from  "home,"  to  give  me 
something  to  think  about,  and  divert  my  mind.  And  do 
I  not  have  the  advantage  of  old  'Squire  Brown's  large 
correspondence?  He  has  had  quite  a  bundle  of  them  to- 
day, and  there  is  an  item  of  good  news  for  all  of  us.  The 
Democrats,  i.  e.,  the  decent  citizens  of  "York  District," 
South  Carolina,  have  sent  a  delegation  of  prominent 
personages  to  intercede  with  Grant  for  the  release  of 
the  South  Carolinians  now  in  this  Prison.  This  is  a  good 
move.  Not  that  any  direct  result  is  likely  to  come  of  it; 
but  it  will  tend  to  attract  public  attention  thitherward 


The  Shotwell  Papers  409 

and  will  keep  us  from  being  utterly  forgotten  among 
our  friends. 

From  the  hospital  window  as  I  write  may  be  wit- 
nessed a  spectacle  rarely  if  ever  known  down  among  the 
"Savage  slave-holders,"  notwithstanding  their  oft  de- 
nounced "Barbarity,"  "Lawlessness,"  and  "Selfish- 
ness." The  sight  to  which  I  refer  is,  that  of  an  whole 
field  of  reapers  cutting  grain  on  the  Sabbath  day!  The 
field  is  said  to  belong  to  the  County  Poor-House,  which 
stands  at  one  end  of  it,  and  from  the  appearance  the 
harvesters  are  inmates  of  that  institution.  I  suppose 
they  are  forced  to  desecrate  the  Sabbath,  or  seek  other 
homes,  which  are  not  easy  to  find  in  this  section.  But 
whether  these  particular  reapers  are  compelled  or  not, 
there  are  others  who  do  likewise  without  compulsion.  A 
few  weeks  ago  when  the  hay  was  being  cut,  we  saw 
men  at  work  in  several  fields  on  Sabbath;  and  I  have 
seen  one  farmer  building  fence  while  the  city  church 
bells  were  ringing  within  plain  hearing! 

Now,  I  suppose,  these  fellows  would  give  some  ex- 
cuse, pretending  to  fear  a  storm,  or  the  injury  of  the 
crop,  but  were  such  a  scene  to  be  witnessed  down  South, 
a  thousand  preachers  and  papers  would  make  it  the  text 
for  severest  denunciation  of  Southern  ungodliness! 

Services  in  the  chapel  this  morning  were  in  memory 
of  Genl.  Pilsbury.  The  pulpit,  and  the  large  arm  chair 
usually  occupied  by  the  old  Superintendent,  on  the  left 
of  the  desk,  were  draped  in  black.  Chaplain  Reynolds 
devoted  his  discourse  to  the  moral,  religious,  and  philan- 
thropic traits  of  the  deceased;  mentioning  many  inci- 
dents of  his  large-heartedness.  Unfortunately  there  is 
little  opportunity  to  exhibit  the  softer  side  of  a  man's 
nature  when  he  has  a  thousand  or  so  fierce  outcasts  and 
outlaws  (the  majority  I  mean)  under  his  control  watch- 
ing for  the  least  chance  to  throw  off  that  control.  Still, 
as  far  as  I  can  judge,  the  convicts  regarded  Genl.  Pils- 
bury as  a  just  man,  and  more  than  usual  stillness  pre- 
vailed among  them  as  the  Chaplain  narrated  instances 
of  his  generous  faith  in  human  nature.  At  the  close  of 
the  services,  a  musical  amateur  from  one  of  the  city 
choirs  sang  the  hymn  "Home  of  the  Soul,"  which  the 


410  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

General  requested  should  be  sung  after  his  death.  What 
a  people! 

NO  CHANCE  FOR  ESCAPE 

July  21st.  It  would  seem,  from  the  marvelous  es- 
capes of  noted  characters  from  both  civil  and  military- 
prisons,  that  a  determined  and  desperate  man  can  break 
out  of  any  prison  that  man  can  devise.  But  if  such  nar- 
ratives be  examined  it  will  be  found  that  in  nearly  every 
instance  the  successful  fugitive  had  a  plenty  of  leisure 
at  his  disposal,  or  in  other  words,  was  simply  a  prisoner, 
not  a  galley-slave,  or  confined  in  a  treadmill.  Albany 
Penitentiary  appears  to  be  proof  against  even  the  most 
desperate  efforts ;  for  not  only  are  the  physical  obstacles 
unsurmountable,  but  there  is,  also,  a  much  more  serious 
preventive  in  the  prison  system.  There  is  not  a  moment 
of  day  or  night  when  the  captive  is  free  from  the  watch- 
ful eyes  of  officers  who  are  themselves  closely  watched. 

The  cells,  as  heretofore  stated,  are  honey-combed  in- 
to a  massive  block  of  masonry,  which  is  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  a  wide  corridor  or  Hall,  and  the  whole  en- 
closed by  an  huge  shell  or  brick  walls.  The  building, 
also,  stands  within  a  large  court-yard  surrounded  by 
high  walls,  so  that  the  prisoner  must  break  out  of  three 
sets  of  walls.  The  following  is  a  ground  plan  of  the 
Main  Hall,  or  block  of  cells  where  the  convicts  are 
locked  in  at  night,  and  on  Sabbath. 

It  will  be  seen  that  half  of  the  cells  open  into  the 
"East  Corridor,"  and  half  into  the  "West  Corridor." 
The  block  of  cells  is  four  tiers  high  and  the  three  tiers 
above  the  ground  tier,  have  narrow  iron  galleries  run- 
ning along  in  front  of  them,  suspended  on  brackets  and 
braces.  Each  cell  is  lighted  and  warmed  through  the 
door,  which  is  made  of  bars  of  iron,  the  size  of  a  broom 
stick,  latticed  together  by  cross-bars.  Now,  each  tier  of 
cells  has  its  overseer,  who  is  furnished,  by  the  "Hall 
Warden,"  a  list  of  cells,  and  is  held  accountable  for  his 
men. 

Every  morning  at  6  o'clock,  at  the  tap  of  the  bell, 
each  overseer  passes  from  cell  to  cell,  unlocking  his 
men:  after  which,  having  formed  them  in  single  file,  he 
marches  them  to  the  work  shops  where  every  man  is 


The  Shotwell  Papers  411 

narrowly  watched  throughout  the  day.  Each  overseer 
reports  the  number  of  men  in  his  gang  to  the  Deputy 
who  is  furnished  the  exact  number  of  men  in  the  prison, 
therefore  instantly  detects  any  absentee.  Moreover  in 
the  workshops  the  men  are  divided  into  "teams,"  each 
man  being  assigned  to  a  particular  piece  or  part  of  the 
work.  If  he  should  quit  his  post  for  a  few  moments  his 
absence  must  be  detected  by  the  disarrangement  of  the 
team.  But  why  leave  his  post  merely  to  be  arrested  at 
the  door,  or  shot  by  the  guards  on  the  parapet  of  the 
outer  walls?  Even  a  pair  of  wings  would  not  facilitate 
matters,  as  the  sentries  are  each  supplied  with  two 
double-barrel  shot  guns  loaded  with  slugs,  and  could 
hardly  avoid  bringing  down  the  fleeing  lark.  At  night 
the  overseers  march  their  men  in  single  file  as  before 
back  into  the  main  Hall,  and  every  man  to  his  cell.  The 
door  of  each  cell  is  carefully  locked.  The  overseer  re- 
ports the  number  of  men  in  his  gang  to  the  Deputy  who 
also  has  his  list.  When  all  the  overseers  have  reported, 
the  Deputy  pulls  a  lever  in  each  corridor,  which  draws 
a  long  heavy,  bar  of  iron  in  front  of  the  whole  row  of 
cells,  so  that  no  cell  door  can  be  opened  even  if  it  had 
been  left  unlocked  by  the  overseer.  This  outside  bar  is 
also  locked  into  position  and  the  Deputy  pockets  the 
key.  Thus  the  doors  are  all  double  locked.  And  now  all 
the  officers,  and  overseers,  retire  from  the  Main  Hall 
into  their  guard  rooms,  leaving  two  "Night  Watchmen" 
whose  duty  is  to  keep  constantly  walking  along  in  front 
of  the  cells  looking  in  at  the  men.  They  wear  slippers 
made  of  heavy  listing,  so  that  their  steps  are  inaudible 
on  the  smooth  flag-stones  of  the  floor ;  and  they  seem  to 
be  shadowy  beings  as  they  glide  from  cell  to  cell  peering 
through  the  door  of  each  to  see  if  the  inmates  are  quiet. 
These  watchmen  are  forbidden  to  speak  to  a  prisoner 
except  to  reprove  him,  and  they  are  closely  watched 
themselves  by  the  Deputy  who  also  slips  about  at  night 
with  cat-like  steps,  and  has  also  two  little  windows,  or 
apertures,  as  large  as  this  book  through  which  he  can 
look  down  into  the  Main  Hall  at  any  hour  of  the  night 
to  detect  the  watchmen  in  any  suspicious  movements, 
or  whispering  to  the  prisoners. 


412  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

It  is  apparent,  therefore,  the  prisoner  has  no  possi- 
bility of  escape  save  by  miracle,  or  by  bribery.  And  even 
a  scheme  of  bribery  would  need  miraculous  aid,  together 
with  unlimited  money  to  succeed.  For  the  routine  is  so 
strict  that  each  officer  is  a  check  upon  every  other  offi- 
cer. To  bribe  one  would  be  useless  unless  nearly  all  were 
bribed ;  and  the  amount  would  have  to  be  heavy  in  each 
instance  as  the  escape  could  be  traced  almost  unerringly 
to  the  negligence  or  corruption  of  the  officers.  And  the 
latter  would  do  well  to  leave  with  the  fugitive,  else  he 
might  soon  exchange  the  inside  for  the  outside  of  the 
cells. 

Another  safeguard  against  escape  is  the  law  which 
doubles  the  original  sentence  of  any  prisoner  attempt- 
ing to  escape!  Thus  a  man  must  be  very  desperate  in- 
deed, when  he  can  make  up  his  mind  to  burn  his  ships 
behind  him  by  engaging  in  an  attempt  wherein  the 
chances  of  failure  are  as  a  thousand  to  one,  and  not  to 
succeed  is  ruin! 

Nevertheless  there  are  not  infrequent  attempts  by 
the  short  term  men  who  are  usually  employed  about  the 
yards,  laundry,  etc.,  and  being  generally  from  Albany, 
or  vicinity,  have  better  means  of  communication  with 
friends.  Tradition,  also,  tells  of  one  escape  from  the 
cells.  .  .  . 

The  weakest  point  in  the  Prison,  if  any  can  be  called 
weak,  is  the  hospital,  where  I  now  write.  It  is  on  the 
third  floor,  but  its  windows  open  upon  the  yard,  and 
only  a  set  of  iron  bars  defend  them.  Three  hours  of  any 
night  would  enable  us  to  saw  off  one  or  two  of  these 
bars  and  with  the  ropes  from  the  beds  all  might  descend 
in  safety.  Or  we  could  cut  through  the  walls,  a  mere 
double  partition  of  lath  and  plaster,  into  the  hallway  of 
the  Superintendent's  residence,  where  there  are  no  bars 
to  the  window.  It  is  my  belief  I  could  escape  any  night. 

But,  of  course,  having  given  my  parole  of  honor  not 
to  attempt  to  escape  nor  to  permit  any  of  the  convales- 
cents to  do  so,  I  am  as  securely  confined  as  if  I  were 
back  in  my  cell,  where  for  18  months  I  slept.  Capt.  Pils- 
bury  told  me  one  day  he  felt  perfectly  at  ease  respecting 


The  Shotwell  Papers  413 

the  Hospital,  and  should  continue  to  do  so  as  long  as  I 
remained.  We  are  locked  in  at  7  P.  M.,  and  remain  thus 
until  6  A.  M. 

July  22.  Gloomy  weather  and  gloomiest — darker 
spirits.  The  petty  vexations  and  humiliations  to  which  I 
am  daily  subjected  keep  me  in  continual  harassment. 
It  is  strange  how  these  petty  troubles  distress  and  mor- 
tify me.  It  would  be  far  easier  for  me  to  endure  actual 
physical  pain  than  to  be  hectored  and  insulted  by  the 
lowborn,  vulgar,  under-strappers  in  authority  over  us. 
Sometimes  I  think  they  purposely  seek  to  annoy  me. 
One  of  the  overseers  has  never  forgiven  me  for  my  hav- 
ing my  pencil  returned  to  me  (by  Genl.  P.)  after  he 
had  ordered  me  to  give  it  up.  The  Deputy  doesn't  like 
the  way  Capt.  Pilsbury  comes  occasionally  to  bring  me 
paper  (writing),  and  talk  with  me;  as  it  is  his  aim  to 
become  the  go-between  the  prisoners  and  the  Superin- 
tendent in  all  things ;  thus  having  all  complaints  or  ap- 
peals within  his  own  discretion  either  to  grant,  or  forget 
to  tell  Capt.  P. 

I  dare  not  write  as  I  should  like  to  do,  for  the  Deputy 
has  more  than  once  picked  up  my  books,  and  read  the 
notes  I  had  made  from  time  to  time.  But  he  cannot  read 
my  cypher.  Unfortunately  it  requires  so  much  trouble  to 
spell  out  that  I  rarely  use  it. 

Later:  Two  of  the  Rutherford  men  who  were  brought 
here  in  the  party  with  me  were  today  released  at  the  ex- 
piration of  their  two  years  sentence.  They  were  George 
H.  Holland,  and  Adolphus  DePriest.  Poor  young 
men!  They  were  both  innocent  of  any  participation  in 
the  Raid  on  Rutherfordton  as  I  am  assured  by  respect- 
able men,  and  by  their  own  statements.  Both  admit 
they  knew  the  affair  was  in  contemplation,  but  one  was 
unwell,  and  the  other  had  no  horse. 

It  is  but  a  repetition  of  the  old  story  to  say  that  while 
these  young  men  who  had  no  hand  in  the  Raid  were 
sentenced  to  Albany  Penitentiary  for  two  years,  the 
real  leaders  and  concocters  of  the  Raid  were  graciously 
received  as  special  pets  of  the  government,  their  pockets 
filled  with  gold,  the  price  of  perjury,  and  their  lies  used 
to  blacken  the  reputation  of  honest  men! 


414  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Holland  has  a  wife  and  child  awaiting  to  welcome 
him  home;  that  is  unless  they  have  succumbed  to  trial 
and  suffering.  They  were  greatly  distressed  even  before 
the  trial  ended. 

Adolphus  DePriest  is  a  young  unmarried  man,  not  19 
years  old.  He  has  been  a  good  deal  threatened  with 
consumption,  and  we  can  surmise  the  effect  of  confine- 
ment in  the  damp  cell  of  a  prison  in  this  inclement  lati- 
tude. 

July  23d.  By  a  singular  coincidence  three  of  the 
negro  lunatics  are  named  Johnston,  or  Johnson;  all 
from  the  District  of  Columbia  (whence  nearly  all  the 
negro  convicts  come;  owing  perhaps  to  the  demoraliz- 
ing influence  of  Grant's  Administration,  and  the  Radi- 
cal Congress  which  is  almost  constantly  in  session)  ;  and 
all  deranged  by  their  unbridled  passions.  The  coinci- 
dence goes  farther.  Johnson  No.  1,  sings,  rehearsing 
quite  an  extensive  repertoire  of  camp -meeting  hymns, 
or  tunes;  Johnson  No.  2,  prays,  very  long,  very  loud, 
and  very  fervently  (especially  when  he  invites  a  bless- 
ing on  that  "hard-hearted  Steward,  who  wont  give  me 
but  three  meals  a  day!"  while  Johnstone,  No.  3,  curses, 
outrageously,  and  makes  so  much  noise  that  I  am  mo- 
mentarily expecting  the  Deputy  to  pounce  in  upon  us, 
and  give  me  another  hectoring  for  not  gagging  the  fel- 
low, though  he  came  so  near  to  choking  to  death  the  last 
time  it  was  done  I  shall  never  authorize  it  again.  If  the 
Deputy  orders  it  in  person  that  will  be  his  act,  not  mine. 
I  shall  take  no  discretion  in  the  matter.  Nevertheless 
between  them,  the  creatures  make  a  Bedlam  of  the  place. 
Poor  Louis  Myers,  the  white  patient,  seems  as  much 
disturbed  at  the  antics  of  the  darkeys  as  if  he  too  were 
sane.  He  walks  continually  day  and  night,  perfectly 
silent,  with  arms  folded  behind  his  back,  and  head  low- 
ered on  his  breast  (and  he  has  a  large  intelligent  head), 
as  if  in  deep  thought.  But  he  never  gives  trouble,  is  un- 
usually cleanly,  and  at  times  seems  almost  master  of 
himself.  Yet  the  least  allusion  to  Germany  or  the  Rhine, 
or  above  all,  to  his  own  wife  and  children,  throws  him  in- 
to a  moody  moroseness,  followed  by  evident  signs  of  de- 
rangement. I  asked  Capt.  P.  if  something  might  not  be 


The  Shotwell  Papers  415 

done  for  Louis's  release.  "Yes,"  he  replied,  "His  term 
is  almost  expired,  and  I  could  release  him  under  the  act 
allowing  reduction  for  good  behavior.  But  it  would  be 
a  pity  to  turn  him  loose  as  he  is.  The  sharpers  have  got- 
ten all  his  money:  he  has  no  friends  in  America,  is  in- 
capable of  self-support,  and  it  is  altogether  certain  he 
would  fare  worse  outside  than  where  he  is.  We  do  not 
require  him  to  work,  and  perhaps  in  a  short  time  he  will 
recover  his  reason."  He  certainly  has  greatly  improved 
since  I  came  up  into  the  Hospital,  as  at  first  we  had  to 
force  food  into  his  mouth.  I  have  stated  the  particulars 
of  his  case  heretofore. 

July  24ih.  During  the  night  a  large  owl  flew  in  at 
the  window,  blinded  by  the  light,  and  aroused  every 
one  by  its  frantic  dashes  against  the  walls  to  escape  the 
cat,  which  leaped  and  chased  it  with  surprising  agility. 
I  watched  the  pursuit  for  a  time  with  some  interest.  It 
illustrates  two  things.  First,  how  groundless  fear  may 
be.  The  owl  with  all  its  reputation  for  wisdom  could 
not  compose  itself  sufficiently  to  see  that  its  hideous 
enemy  was  without  wings  and  could  not  possibly  reach 
its  flight  around  the  lofty  ceiling — unless  in  its  mad 
fears  it  should  cripple  itself  against  the  walls. 

Second,  how  savage  is  the  instinct  of  the  whole  spe- 
cies of  cat  kind,  how  unf  eelin'  are  all  varieties  of  felines ! 
Our  gentle  Tabitha,  dreamily  dozing  at  the  stove,  or- 
dinarily as  gentle  as  the  limpest  of  lambs,  was  in  a  mo- 
ment transformed,  by  the  advent  of  the  bird,  into  the 
counterpart  of  a  tiger !  Were  the  cat  photographed  in  its 
full  vigor  of  glistening  eyes,  ravenous  jaws,  bristling 
beard,  and  every  hair  on  its  back  erect  and  quivering 
with  passionate  cruelty,  as  she  bounds  like  an  elastic 
ball  from  bed,  from  table  to  desk,  seeing  nothing,  heed- 
ing nothing,  but  keenly  intent  upon  tearing  and  rend- 
ing the  fluttering  victim;  were  this  photographed,  and 
the  picture  enlarged  to  many  times  its  natural  size,  the 
result  would  show  a  blood-thirsty  tiger  or  jaguar  or 
puma,  or  panther,  as  fierce  and  formidable  as  ever  was 
seen  amid  Asiatic  jungles,  South  American  forests,  or 
California  cliffs!  I  was  so  disgusted  at  this  savage  in- 
stinct that  I  allowed  the  men  to  catch  the  owl  and  make 


416  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

it  give  Tabby  a  good  whipping,  which  the  bird  easily 
did  after  getting  "claw-hold"  on  the  cats  fur. 

But  humanity  is  little  improvement  on  the  beast.  The 
patients  wanted,  some  to  kill,  others  to  cage  and  pet, 
the  owl.  I  bade  them  remember  they  themselves  had 
food,  raiment,  shelter,  medical  attendance,  etc.,  etc.,  yet 
would  gladly  live  on  crusts,  and  sleep  in  the  street,  with 
no  covering  save  their  rags,  rather  than  remain  shut  up 
as  prisoners.  Why  then  should  they  rob  of  its  liberty 
a  harmless  bird  to  whom  liberty  was  everything?  With 
that  I  took  the  bird  by  the  window,  bade  it  carry  a  mes- 
sage for  us  to  all  the  great  world  of  the  free,  and  set  it 
outside  the  iron  bars. 

Sunday. 

July  26th.  It  is  a  Sunday  without  Sun  for  me !  The 
morning  distribution  of  the  weekly  mail  always  brings 
disappointment;  and  when  we  go  to  chapel  the  singing 
of  familiar  hymns  awakens  old  memories;  and  then  the 
Chaplain  indulges  in  remarks  which  show  how  utterly 
outcast  a  man  in  a  Penitentiary  is;  no  matter  what  his 
act,  or  how  unjustly  he  be  imprisoned.  There  are,  as 
even  the  preacher  admitted,  worse  men,  with  blacker 
stains  on  their  souls  at  this  moment  sitting  in  the  costly 
churches  of  the  city  and  the  land,  respected  and  hon- 
ored. But  they  are  not  yet  caught,  maybe  never  will  be 
detected  and  exposed,  or  they  may  have  the  wealth  and 
influence  to  do  with  impunity  what  would  send  a  poorer 
and  purer  man  to  this  Penitentiary.  Nevertheless  all 
this,  though  recognized  fact,  does  not  at  all  relieve  the 
"Penitentiary  Convict"  from  an  indelible  stigma  which 
no  former,  nor  after,  purity  of  life  can  eradicate.  It  were 
better  for  many  a  youth  that  he  were  hanged  the  day 
he  was  sentenced  to  this  Pen. 

TRAVELING  AT  PUBLIC  EXPENSE 

'Squire  Brown  has  had  visitors.  Being  called  to  the 
Supt's  office  he  found  Dr.  J.  Neagle,  the  carpet-bag- 
ger Comptroller  of  the  State  (So.  Ca.)  but  at  present 
out  of  office  having  realized  "a  large  fortune"  from  the 
Rogue's  Ring  at  Columbia.  Wishing  to  make  a  North- 
ern  tour   during  the   hot  mid-summer,    he   had   Gov. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  417 

Moses  (his  confederate  in  former  stealing)  to  appoint 
him  a  roving  commissioner  to  visit  Northern  Public  in- 
stitutions and  enjoy  himself  at  public  expense.  He  and 
wife  were  just  now  on  their  way  to  spend  a  week  at 
Niagara  Falls;  and  seeing  a  chance  to  manufacture  a 
little  credit  for  himself,  free  of  cost,  the  wily  doctor  hav- 
ing glanced  through  the  "Model  Penitentiary,"  sent  for 
Brown  and  one  or  two  others  of  the  South  Carolinians 
to  make  a  pretence  of  inquiring  as  to  their  health,  con- 
dition, etc.  Old  Man  Brown  knew  his  man,  yet  could 
not  repress  his  elation  at  the  promises  Neagle  freely 
made  to  intercede  with  "my  friend  Grant,"  and  "get  you 
out." 

A  more  encouraging  piece  of  news  leaked  out  amid 
the  conversation  to  wit,  that  a  delegation  consisting  of 
Genl.  J.  B.  Kershaw  (of  Kershaw's  old  Division)  Hon. 
W.  D.  Porter  of  Charleston,  Rev.  Dr.  Martin  of  Co- 
lumbia, and  Col.  R.  M.  Sims,  of  Rock  Hill,  have  been 
sent  to  Washington  to  ask  the  release  of  the  80  "Ku 
Klux"  prisoners  from  South  Carolina,  now  toiling  as 
felons  in  this  miserable  place.  Neagle  says  his  friend 
(I  should  be  ashamed  to  name  the  Dictator,  the  brutal 
butcher  of  his  own  men,  and  the  lawless  foe  to  Southern 
freedom  as  my  friend,  or  even  acquaintance,  much  less 
political  bedfellow!)  Grant  is  not  at  the  Capital,  but 
spending  the  hot  weather  at  the  sea-coast,  where  he  has 
a  cottage  among  the  gold-puffed  nabobs  who  thrive 
upon  the  Grant  regime.  "Birds  of  a  feather  will  flock," 
etc.  It  matters  little  to  the  stolid  Gift-Receiver  that  his 
absence  from  the  Capital  disarranges  public  business; 
not  to  speak  of  such  instances  as  the  South  Carolina 
delegation  sent  so  far,  and  so  humbly,  to  beg  his  clem- 
ency! Really  I  am  glad  my  friends,  nay,  the  people  I 
used  once  to  think  my  friends,  have  made  no  such  ap- 
peal. It  is  most  humiliating  to  suffer  years  of  foulest 
injustice  at  the  hands  of  Grant,  and  his  Grantizaries, 
and  at  last  to  give  him  the  opportunity  to  gain  a  false 
credit  by  magnanimously  ( !),  condescending  (!)  to  put 
a  period  (not  to  repeal  or  restore  past  wrongs)  to  his 
outrages  by  generously  (!!)  turning  loose  the  humble 


418  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

victims  of  his  fiendish  plots  to  secure  a  second  lease  of 
power  and  plunder! 

For  my  part  I  long  for  liberty  with  frantic  wishes,  as 
if,  as  sometimes  I  fancy,  I  can  hear  my  own  heart  crying 
for  freedom  from  this  terrible  captivity  and  ignominy; 
but  shall  I,  after  all  the  outrages  heaped  upon  me  with- 
out one  provocation,  one  threat,  or  taunt,  or  any  manner 
of  refractory  resistance,  now  kiss  the  hands  that  smote 
me?  God  forbid. 

Wednesday, 

July  30th.  Had  a  miserable  night.  The  crazy  ne- 
groes gave  much  trouble.  One  of  them  tried  to  kill 
a  patient  in  an  adjoining  cot  and  his  strength  being  al- 
most supernatural  while  in  the  rage  of  frenzy,  I  had  to 
call  the  convalescents  to  my  assistance.  It  required  all 
the  effort  of  four  of  us  to  hold  him  down  on  his  bed, 
while  we  handcuffed  and  shackled  him.  His  ravings 
against  me  were  terrible,  and  I  could  hardly  repress  my 
anger,  especially  when  seeing  that  a  number  of  the  con- 
victs, who  dislike  my  enforcement  of  the  Rules,  and  the 
coolness  with  which  I  treat  them,  were  furtively  snick- 
ering over  the  negro's  abuse  of  me. 

Of  course  I  could  easily  retaliate,  and  send  them  back 
to  their  cells,  as  able  for  duty  in  the  workshops,  but, 
after  all,  why  make  such  a  confession  of  my  own  weak- 
ness and  irritability? 

The  crazy  fellow,  by  the  by,  is  another  illustration 
of  the  injustice  often  done  under  the  forms  of  law,  and 
in  the  so-called  courts  of  justice.  He  was  storing  ice  at 
Sing  Sing  when  a  large  piece  slipped  and  fractured  his 
skull,  since  which  he  has  never  been  wholly  responsible 
for  his  actions,  consequently  instead  of  being  sent  to 
the  Penitentiary  he  should  have  been  restrained  in  some 
safe  manner,  perhaps  in  an  insane  asylum.  As  it  is,  he 
is  stigmatized  as  a  felon,  and  when  not  too  violent,  is 
made  to  toil  as  a  felon,  by  reason  of  having  suffered  the 
accident  of  Providence. 

Have  just  seen  a  queer  sight.  A  well  dressed  white 
man,  accompanied  by  quite  a  party  of  visitors,  passed 
through  the  prison,  and  came  as  is  customary  to  view 
the  Hospital.  Thus  far  there  was  nothing  different  from 


The  Shotwell  Papers  419 

the  hourly  visitations  that  annoy  us,  by  standing  for 
five  minutes  to  stare  at  us,  and  make  remarks  about  us, 
and  how  well  treated  we  are!  But  to  my  eyes  it  was  a 
curious  thing  to  see  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  well 
dressed  white  man  a  lolling,  flaunting,  woolly -headed 
negro  wench,  as  black  as  the  fellow's  stove  pipe  hat,  and 
as  impudent  as  Old  Nick !  Holding  up  her  dress  to  dis- 
play a  pair  of  white  kid  brogans,  she  clung  to  his  arm, 
and  made  many  giggling  remarks,  one  of  which  caused 
a  laugh  after  the  party  left.  It  was,  "Oh  dear!  If  there 
aint  a  whole  pass-el  ob  men  right  thar  in  bed!" 

The  turnkey  who  acted  as  guide  for  the  party  seemed 
not  to  fancy  them  as  he  brusquely  called,  "Come  along! 
There's  other  folks  a- waiting!" 

August  2nd,  Capt.  Pilsbury  came  up  into  the  Hos- 
pital for  the  first  time  since  his  father's  death.  He  is 
now  Superintendent,  and  therefore  the  Deputy  watches 
him  as  closely  as  he  did  the  old  General,  lest  the  prison- 
ers should  get  a  chance  to  make  some  complaint.  The 
"less  said  soonest  mended,"  is  a  good  maxim  for  here! 
But  Captain  P.  gave  me  one  bit  of  comfort  in  mention- 
ing that  he  or  his  wife,  had  received  a  long  letter  from 
Mrs.  Doctor  Twitty  of  Spartanburg,  South  Carolina, 
speaking  very  warmly  of  the  wrong  done  to  our  poor 
men,  and  sending  personal  regards  to  myself.  Mrs.  T. 
is  a  native  of  Albany,  and  a  schoolmate  of  Mrs.  Pils- 
bury; therefore  her  testimony  in  our  behalf  must  be  of 
service  in  off  setting  the  miserable  falsehoods  about  the 
Klan,  and  Ku  Klux  outrages,  that  have  filled  the  Radi- 
cal press.  He  also  gave  me  a  clipping  from  a  newspaper 
containing  a  telegram  announcing  that  "Landaulet" 
Williams  had  graciously  recommended  for  pardon 
D.  S.  Splawn,  Wm.  Scruggs,  Dover,  and — Murphy, 
Ku  Klux  convicts  now  in  Albany  Penitentiary."  Be- 
hold how  the  "Best  government  the  world  ever  saw," 
dispenses  mercy!  Murphy  served  his  sentence  and  was 
released  months  ago !  The  three  others  are  almost  on  the 
eve  of  release,  having  served  the  term  of  their  sentence 
minus  the  30  days  reduction  for  good  behavior!  How 
magnanimous  to  pardon  the  last  half  a  dozen  days  of  a 
two  years  sentence,  and  claim  credit  therefor!  But  this 


420  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

was  quite  like  the  sending  of  a  pardon  to  the  Alabamian, 
Porter,  six-weeks  after  Death  had  unlocked  his  prison 
doors,  and  led  him  away  to  a  quiet  resting  place  amid 
the  bones  of  Potter's  Field!  Or,  like  the  sending  of  a 
pardon  for  Barton  Biggerstaff,  who  was  never  at  this 
Prison,  but  had  been  long  awaiting  it  in  Rutherford 
jail!  Of  course  these  were  "mistakes."  But  what  depen- 
dence, or  confidence,  can  be  felt  in  a  government  which 
thus  trifles  with  the  living  and  mocks  the  dead,  by  its 
shameful  and  utterly  inexcusable  "mistakes?" 

Sunday.  Disappointed  as  usual.  Feeling  almost  cer- 
tain that  the  renewal  of  rumors  concerning  a  general  re- 
lease of  the  Southern  Prisoners  here  confined  (of  which 
mention  is  made  in  the  letters  of  both  Brown  and 
Scruggs,  the  only  two  Ku  Klux  now  in  the  Hospital), 
would  cause  some  friend  to  drop  me  a  line  this  week,  I 
arose  at  day-break,  visited  each  patient,  arranged  the 
beds,  performed  my  usual  duties,  and  sat  by  the  win- 
dow, pretending  to  read,  but  in  reality  watching  the 
door  through  which  the  Deputy  must  enter.  He  came, 
as  the  cat  comes,  stealthily,  until  with  a  sudden  move- 
ment he  opened  the  door,  and  glanced  round  the  hall  in 
hope  of  catching  some  infraction  of  the  rules.  All  was 
quiet  and  orderly!  Then  he  passed  from  cot  to  cot  dis- 
tributing the  mail.  Every  one  seemed  to  have  some  one 
in  the  world  who  still  remembered  them,  no  matter  how 
vulgar,  vile,  and  villainous  they  were.  Even  the  negroes 
receive  numerous  letters,  frequently  averaging  one  or 
two  a  week  the  year  round.  It  requires  almost  an  whole 
day  for  one  person  to  read  the  weekly  mail  of  the 
Prison;  and  I  suspect  a  good  many  letters  are  merely 
glanced  at  and  thrown  into  the  fire  if  found  too  long, 
and  apparently  unimportant. 

Not  much  trouble  have  my  letters  given  the  examin- 
ing clerk.  There  have  been  intervals  of  three  and  four 
months  when  I  was  as  utterly  forgotten  as  if  I  were 
dead.  Poor  father  would  gladly  send  me  a  letter  every 
week,  I  feel  sure;  but  even  he  seems  to  have  become  dis- 
couraged by  the  continual  interception  of  his  letters. 

And  this  puzzles  me;  where  can  the  Radical  Rogues 
get  their  fingers  on  my  correspondence?  Numbers  of 


The  Shotwell  Papers  421 

letters  come  safely  to  Squire  Brown  and  to  Wm. 
Scruggs,  by  the  same  route  Northward,  after  reaching 
Charlotte.  So,  the  embargo  must  be  at  Charlotte,  or  at 
some  point  between  it  and  Rutherfordton.  Oh!  that  we 
had  an  honest  Post  Master  General  that  I  might  have 
these  iniquities  laid  before  him!  But  now,  every  post 
master  and  mail-messenger,  is  a  politician,  in  league 
with  the  Radical  managers  and  all  would  approve  the 
stealing  of  my  letters  in  order  to  get,  if  possible,  some 
clue  to  our  prominent  leaders. 

It  shows  that  the  stealing  is  done  on  the  above  named 
route,  because  Genl.  Collett  Leventhorpe's  letters  come 
safely,  as  do,  also,  my  brother's  letters  from  Princeton, 
and  Aunt  Susie's  from  Connecticut  and  Massachusetts. 
Ah !  well,  'Tis  folly  to  worry  over  the  unavoidable !  And 
vet! 

"All  blank  and  meaningless  is  life 
In  this  foul  spot!  One  eternal  Present, 
Rayless  as  Lapland  Winter,  wraps  my  soul; 
One  ceaseless  wrong — affording  but  one  sense 
Of  crudest  agony — makes  up  my  life, 
Stretching  from  day  to  day,  its  sole  event!" 

Two  years !  Two  years  dead  and  buried !  what  a  thing  it 
is.  How  many  strange  occurrences  must  have  occurred! 
How  full  of  news  will  be  the  newspapers  if  I  ever  see 
them  again!  There  has  been  a  war  between  France  and 
Prussia  and  Napoleon  slain;  thus  much  I  have 
heard;  but  what  of  the  battles  etc.?  There  have  been 
great  conflagrations  at  Chicago  and  Boston ;  this  much  I 
know.  Grant  has  been  re-elected  and  Greeley  is  crazy; 
these  events  I  have  foreseen.  But  what  a  mass  of  fact, 
of  folly,  of  accident,  of  casualty  and  crime,  must  be  hid- 
den behind  the  curtain  of  ignorance  drawn  before  our 
eyes  by  the  discipline  of  this  "model  prison!"  Surely  this 
policy  is  all  wrong.  The  purpose  of  Penitentiaries  as 
their  name  signifies  is  to  cause  men  to  repent  and  re- 
form— not  merely  to  punish.  If  offenders  were  punished 
merely  to  retaliate  on  them  for  crimes  against  society  it 
would  be  better  to  kill  them  at  once,  and  be  done  with 
them;  for  after  society  became  satisfied  with  retaliating 


422  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

on  the  prisoner  he  would  return  to  revenge  himself,  and 
his  retaliation  would  be  apt  to  cost  heavily. 

Then  if  the  purpose  of  imprisonment  is  to  Reform  as 
well  as  punish,  why  treat  the  man  as  if  he  were  expected 
never  again  to  re-enter  the  world?  Why  dwarf  his  in- 
tellect, and  narrow  his  range  of  thought,  (until  he  has 
only  his  own  dark  thoughts,  recollections,  schemes,  etc., 
to  brood  over)  as  if  he  were  no  longer  within  the  scope 
of  human  existence? 

There  are  men  now  in  this  prison  who  are  like  great 
grown  up  babies.  Ten,  fifteen,  twenty,  some  twenty- 
five,  years  ago  they  came  to  the  big  gate,  glanced  gloom- 
ily backward  at  the  green  fields  which  then  surrounded 
the  prison,  entered,  heard  the  iron  doors  banging  behind 
them,  and  have  never  seen  nor  heard  anything  of  the 
great  world  since !  Perhaps  they  have  never  heard  more 
than  some  vague  allusion  to  the  Civil  War !  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  they  know  that  Albany  has  extended  its  suburbs 
until  the  Penitentiary  is  surrounded  by  residences,  and 
has  paved  streets  to  the  outer  gate  of  its  beautiful 
grounds!  Why  should  this  barrenness  of  mind  be  re- 
quired? No  wonder  the  released  convict  finds  himself 
overwhelmed  by  the  sense  of  ignorance  of  the  mighty 
march  of  the  nation,  and  despairs  of  regaining  an  honor- 
able foothold  in  life !  Books,  to  be  sure,  in  limited  allow- 
ance, and  very  Sunday -schoolish  character,  but  a  pris- 
oner who  is  weary  with  toiling  from  dawn  till  dusk,  and 
perhaps  fired  by  needless  mortifications  on  the  part  of 
his  keepers,  is  not  much  interested  or  instructed  by  sto- 
ries of  "Mary's  Little  Lamb,"  or  "Jack's  Playmates," 
or  "Missionary  Voyages,"  etc.  Surely  an  allowance  of 
one  newspaper  per  week  could  do  no  harm. 

August  11th.  A  note  from  Bro.  M.  at  Princeton 
College  mentions  a  rumor  that  I  am  to  be  shortly  re- 
leased! Indeed!  I  fear  "all  signs  fail  in  dry  weather," 
and  'tis  dreadfully  dry  at  this  writing.  Have  so  written 
him.  He  says  that  Col.  C.  who  was  himself  a  political 
prisoner  at  one  time. .  .  / 

August  14.  Bainy,  dark  and  disheartening!  I  have 
wandered  up  and  down  the  floor  until  I  imagine  I  can 
see  a  path  worn  in  the  planks.  Sitting  up  half  the  night 

1    A  line  in  the  manuscript  is  blank. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  423 

to  watch  with  the  sick,  and  constantly  disturbed  during 
the  remainder  by  their  coughing  or  wheezing,  naturally 
tends  to  render  me  nervous,  and  easily  annoyed.  But 
were  it  otherwise  I  could  not  but  be  unhappy  in  the  ex- 
isting conditions. 

Dover  and  Splawn,  the  latter  an  old  grey  haired  man 
of  651  have  just  been  released!  They  were  tried  in  South 
Carolina,  but  live  not  far  from  the  line  between  Ruther- 
ford and  Polk  Counties,  I  believe.  What  the  accusation 
against  them  was  I  do  not  know,  but  it  matters  little. 
They  were  caught  in  the  dredge-net  thrown  out  by  the 
Grant  manipulations  and  have  had  to  pay  the  penalty 
of  not  voting  the  Radical  ticket. 

August  15th.  It  is  surprising  the  difference  between 
this  climate  and  our  own.  Last  night,  in  this  tightly  con- 
structed room,  occupied  by  a  dozen  men,  I  slept  under 
two  heavy  blankets,  and  wished  for  as  many  more.  This 
morning  is  as  cold  as  any  November,  or  many  Decem- 
ber mornings  at  Raleigh,  though  only  the  middle  of 
August ! 

Jones,  my  assistant,  says  he  was  down  in  the  Main 
Hall  when  the  two  North  Carolinians  were  released  yes- 
terday. Old  man  Splawn  was  so  agitated  he  could 
hardly  stand,  and  was  helped  to  change  his  convict  garb 
for  his  citizens  dress.  Every  moment  he  would  cry  out — 
"Good  Lord!  Good  Lord!  Ami  goirt  ter  git  out  et  las! 
Good  Lord!  JesJ  to  think!  Goin3  ter  git  out,  an  go  home! 
Oh!  I'm  all  a-trimble!"  And  still  making  these  excla- 
mations the  old  man  tottered  out  into  the  world  again! 
Good  Lord,  indeed!  Will  He  ever  make  Bond  and 
Grant,  and  Wallace,  and  Logan,  and  Company,  to  be 
"all  a-trimble!"  It  is  the  thought  of  the  injustice  and 
wrong  done  to  innocent  men,  to  the  principles  of  liberty, 
to  the  right  of  individuals,  and  to  my  own  name,  family, 
father,  and  future  prospects,  that  fixes  me  in  my  de- 
termination to  return  to  North  Carolina,  and  devote  the 
remainder  of  my  life  to  vindication  and  justice.  But  for 
this,  I  should  humbly  plead  for  pardon,  release,  or  ban- 
ishment, anything  to  get  out  of  this  fearful  place;  and 
when  free,  I  should  go  very  far  "over  the  border"  never- 
more to  return.  Of  course  no  one  would  care,  (excepting 


424  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

father  and  brothers)  what  became  of  me;  and  doubtless 
the  world  is  right ;  a  man  who  is  not  missed  is  generally 
not  worth  missing.  And  yet  I  fought  four  years  for  my 
people,  not  by  compulsion  as  many  did,  but  from  prin- 
ciple and  I  battled  four  years  for  my  party,  not  for  of- 
fice or  profit  but  because  I  regarded  its  success  as  utterly 
indispensable  for  peace,  prosperity  and  good  govern- 
ment; and  finally  I  have  given  up  four  more  years  of 
my  life — three  of  them  already  spent — to  uphold  those 
same  principles,  to  preserve  order  and  morality  in  the 
State,  and  to  protect  our  noble  women.  Surely,  then,  I 
have  meant  well,  however  unfortunate.  Bah!  it  matters 
naught!  Queer  if  there  be  not  meat  and  bread  for  one 
more  man  out  in  the  "wide,  wide,  world,"  and  as  the 
French  say,  "If  the  house  cannot  be  made  to  be  com- 
fortable, it  can  be  abandoned!" 

August  17.  No  letters  this  week,  as  usual!  'Squire 
Brown  received  four,,  and  came  to  me  with  eyes  glisten- 
ing even  behind  his  eyeglasses  as  he  related  the  contents, 
and  for  the  five  hundred  and  fifty-fifth  time  grew  en- 
thusiastic over  the  prospect  of  "immediate  release"  held 
out  by  the  kind-hearted  friends,  his  correspondents. 
It  appears  that  Messrs.  Porter,  Sims,  and  Kershaw  ob- 
tained from  Grant  a  promise  there  should  be  an  end  to 
his  lawless  raids  on  the  Southern  people.  Under  pre- 
tense of  enforcing  the  unconstitutional  Enforcement 
Acts,  Grant  directed  "Landaulet"  Williams  to  make  an 
announcement  which  might  be  accepted  by  the  thous- 
ands of  young  men  in  exile  as  an  intimation  that  they 
might  return  home  without  fear  of  molestation.  But 
Williams  issued  a  letter  so  full  of  quirks,  and  quibbles, 
and  ambiguities  that  no  one  can  place  the  least  reliance 
on  it.  His  language  is  framed  to  allow  him  to  break 
faith  with  any  man  who  ventures  within  his  grasp.  It 
says,  "there  may  be  exceptional  cases  of  great  aggrava- 
tion where  the  government  would  insist  upon  conviction 
and  punishment.  Persons  who  have  absented  themselves 
on  account  of  complicity  in  Ku  Klux  offences  are  at  lib- 
erty to  return,  and  unless  their  crimes  belong  within  the 
above  named  exceptional  cases,  they  will  not  be  prosec- 
cuted."  Now,  as  all  the  acts  done  by  the  Klan  date  three 


The  Shotwell  Papers.  425 

years  ago,  and  all  such  exceptional  cases  must  be  already- 
well  known,  the  object  of  the  phrases  quoted  is  clearly 
to  allow  him  to  pounce  upon  any  man  who  may  have 
means  to  pay  for  his  own  plucking,  or  whom  the  Granti- 
zaries  may  wish  to  punish  for  personal  spite.  In  short 
the  whole  letter  is  a  trick.  When  I  was  confined  in  the 
cell  I  read  a  letter  written  by  a  female  lawyer  of  Wash- 
ington City  to  B.  which  contained  a  remark  very  near 
the  truth.  The  Attorney-General,  she  declared,  had 
treated  her  disrespectfully,  but  that  was  nothing  new. 
He  was  a  pettifogger  on  horseback.  He  had  come  from 
the  wild  woods  of  the  far  West  where  he  learned  to  play 
the  part  of  Prosecutor,  Judge,  and  Jury,  all  in  one; 
and  if  the  thing  wouldn't  make  too  much  talk,  he  would 
like  to  include  the  part  of  hangman  also ! 

And  I  say — "All  so!"  to  the  remark.  Like  Edwin  M. 
Stanton,  he  is  cruel  and  cunning  for  party  purposes; 
like  Jo  Holt  he  is  cruel  and  atrocious  from  the  sheer 
maliciousness  of  his  narrow  soul. 

Aug.  18th.  In  addressing  the  letters  (written  by  the 
convicts  on  Sunday)  every  Monday  morning  I  have  an 
opportunity  to  get  an  insight  to  the  thoughts,  feelings, 
hopes,  fears,  and  affections  of  the  majority  of  the  occu- 
pants of  this  great  human  hive,  both  male  and  female. 
One  thing  noticeable  is  that  nearly  all  the  family  let- 
ters begin  with  "Dear  Mother."  Occasionally  it  is  "Dear 
Brother,"  or  "Dear  Sister."  But  very  rarely  does  the 
convict  address  "Dear  Father." 

Several  deductions  might  be  drawn  from  this  singu- 
lar fact,  but  one  thought  will  immediately  occur;  no 
child  can  sink  so  low  as  to  lose  all  hold  upon  the  moth- 
er's heartstrings.  He  may  be  as  one  dead,  to  his  father, 
and  to  all  the  family,  but  he  can  never  hesitate  to  make 
new  calls  on  "Mother." 

Among  today's  letters  was  one  from  Amos  Owens 
of  Rutherford,  in  which  occurs  this  sentence,  "How 
did  you  hear  that  Shotwell  is  pardoned?"  'Tis  a  perti- 
nent question.  I  should  like  to  hear  of  it  myself.  I  hap- 
pen to  be  acquainted  with  that  poor  fellow,  Shotwell, 
and  it  would  be  very  gratifying  for  me  to  inform  him 
that  he  needn't  tarry  here  abouts  any  longer.  Just  now 
he  is  more  than  ordinarily  tormented. 


426  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Of  all  tortures  the  mental  "rack"  of  suspense  is  most 
fearful.  It  is  one  of  the  chief  ingredients  of  Milton's 
poetic  "Hell."  As  Miss  Jane  Porter  says,  "In  its  hot 
and  cold  regions  the  anxious  soul  is  alternately  tossed 
from  the  ardor  of  Hope  to  the  petrifying  rigors  of 
Doubt  and  Dread."  It  is  one  of  the  nerves  whence 
agonies  are  born.  The  mere  talk  of  possible  release  ren- 
ders me  so  restless  that  I  cannot  read,  or  sit  still,  or 
sleep ;  though  I  know  by  experience  of  an  hundred  dis- 
appointments there  is  scarcely  the  shadow  of  a  shadow 
of  Hope!  And  yet. 

"Because  it  may  be  so, 

My  credulous  heart  whispers  it  is; 

And  fondly  fosters  the  feeble  glimmerings  of 

A  sickly  Hope!" 

Aug.  22nd.  For  five  days  we  have  had  not  one 
hour  of  sunshine — nothing  but  rain,  and  lowering  clouds. 
At  this  moment,  (10  A.  M.)  the  fog  is  so  dense  one 
cannot  see  across  the  Prison  Yard.  Such  weather  in 
North  Carolina  would  arouse  fears  of  the  Deluge.  The 
natives  hereabout  do  not  mind  it,  in  the  least.  Not  less 
than  a  score  of  well  dressed  women  visited  the  Prison 
yesterday,  regardless  of  the  rain.  Two  and  three  in  a 
gang,  with  skirts  elevated  showing  whole  acres  of  gum- 
shoes, they  tramped  through  the  sloppy  grounds,  gig- 
gled at  the  coatless  convicts,  made  notes  in  well-thumbed 
note  books,  poked  the  turnkey  with  their  parasols  to  at- 
tract his  attention  and  made  themselves  altogether  at 
home,  causing  me  to  remark  for  the  f orty-leventh  time, 
"What  a  People!" 

Aug.  23d.  Having  been  called  down  to  the  Super- 
intendent's Office  I  was  met  by  Horace  R.  Hudson,  a 
young  gentleman  holding  the  position  of  Assistant  Edi- 
tor of  Col.  T.  C.  Callicott's  paper,  the  Albany  Evening 
Times.  He  came  at  the  suggestion  of  Capt.  Pilsbury 
to  whom  I  had  written  a  note  asking  if  he  would  assist 
me  to  sell  some  articles  to  the  city  press  in  case  I  should 
be  released.  Mr.  Hudson  states  that  he  has  seen  a  tele- 
gram from  Washington  announcing  the  order  for  the 
release  of  "R.  A.  Shotwell  and  W.  M.  Fulton/'  Fulton 


The  Shotwell  Papers  427 

is  a  South  Carolinian,  and  having  no  Scalawag  enemies 
to  interfere,  was  immediately  released!  He  left  the 
Prison  yesterday  evening!  I  do  not  know  why  my  name 
should  be  coupled  with  his ;  but  the  fact  that  they  were 
thus  coupled  and  that  Fulton  is  already  a  free  man 
gives  grounds  for  Hope !  But  reflect !  The  so-called  par- 
dons were  said  to  have  been  issued  on  the  first  week 
in  the  month;  why  this  delay?  I  cannot  forget  how  poor 
Scruggs  was  tantalized;  his  release  ordered,  the  news 
published,  his  friends  stirred  to  send  him  money  for 
travelling  expenses,  (obtained  by  a  long  journey  and 
sale  of  his  wife's  cow!)  and  then  the  pardon  revoked  at 
the  instance  of  some  vile  scoundrel;  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  a  more  harmless  little  man  than  William 
Scruggs  does  not  live  anywhere! 

August  24th,  The  day  is  exceedingly  dark  and 
gloomy,  symbolizing  my  own  feelings  and  fortunes.  It 
is  clear  that  Grant  has  again  disappointed  those  to  whom 
be  gave  his  promise.  Three  months  ago  he  gave  his 
pledge  to  Capt.  Plato  Durham  that  if  Virgil  S.  Lusk 
and  "Jim"  Justice  would  sign  the  application  for  my 
release  he  should  grant  it.  He  had  been  informed,  of 
course,  that  neither  Lusk  (whom  I  had  caned  in  the 
street),  nor  Justice  (whom  I  had  so  often  exposed  and 
denounced  for  his  deeds)  would  sign  it.  But  by  some 
strange  freak  or  foresight,  both,  as  I  have  heard,  did 
sign  it.  Nevertheless  Grant  refused,  or  neglected  to 
keep  his  pledges.  True,  I  never  applied  for  pardon,  and 
shall  never  do  so,  no  matter  if  I  die  in  this  terrible  place ; 
but  he  should  not  have  given  his  word  if  he  meant  not  to 
keep  it,  as  no  doubt  he  did  mean. 

However,  there  is  no  use  of  my  brooding  over  these 
;roubles.  All  my  indignation  amounts  to  naught.  I  am 
n  the  power  of  my  enemies  and  there  is  nothing  I  can 
do  but  to  show  them  the  firmness  of  true  manhood, 
rhank  God  it  is  my  high  prerogative  to  live  as  truly  and 
lobly  within  these  prison  walls,  surrounded  by  felons 
ind  all  the  attributes  of  felony,  and  forced  to  stand  be- 
fore my  keepers  with  folded  arms,  and  downcast  eyes, 
is  if  I  were  in  a  palace  surrounded  by  obsequious  de- 
pendents. 


428  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

I  shall  once  more  take  up  my  studies,  and  prepare 
to  endeavor  to  distract  myself  as  little  as  possible  by 
passing  rumors  of  release.  Why  should  I  worry?  For- 
tune has  done  her  worst!  Can  a  man  get  lower  in  life 
than  be  convicted,  sent  to  a  distant  penitentiary  for 
years,  forgotten  by  his  friends,  lost  his  health,  have  his 
teeth  destroyed,  have  not  a  penny,  or  a  decent  suit  of 
clothing,  with  which  to  go  forth  into  the  world?  Surely 
there  is  no  lower  round  so  far  as  physical  and  pecuniary, 
and  personal  situation  is  considered. 

But  there  is  no  need  to  become  embittered.  Devotion 
to  Southern  principles  brought  me  here:  advocacy  of 
the  same  kept  me  poor,  and  having  reached  the  bottom- 
rack  of  ill  fortune,  I  can  henceforth  look  on  frown  or 
favor  with  equal  equanimity.  Unfortunately  I  can  never 
be  enough  of  a  philosopher  to  regard  my  own  losses  and 
sufferings  with  indifference:  but  I  can  do  the  next  best 
thing  namely  to  endure  them  as  a  matter  of  principle 
and  necessity. 
1873. 

Aug.  25th.  Night  was  so  cool  we  slept  uncomfor- 
tably under  two  blankets.  This  would  seem  incredible  at 
Raleigh  in  August. 

My  lunatic  patient  gave  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  The 
black  rascal  sleeps  all  day,  and  prevents  our  sleep  at 
night,  by  his  bowlings  and  prowlings.  Whenever  the 
monotonous  growling  ceases  I  awake  by  sheer  habit, 
having  learned  by  dear  experience  that  such  cessation 
signifies  the  madman  is  loose,  and  prowling  in  search  of 
weapons.  These  Yankee-born  negro  convicts  are  as  cun- 
ning as  an  Indian,  as  plausible  an  an  Italian,  and  as  im- 
pudent as  a  Spanish  beggar.  One  of  them,  I  have  al- 
ready stated,  deceived  the  Surgeon,  and  also  a  brother 
physician  called  in  specially  to  examine  him;  making 
them  satisfied  that  he  was  crazy.  Every  feature  of  lun- 
acy was  manifest  in  his  actions  and  appearance.  But  I 
one  night  caught  him  off  his  guard;  and  knowing  the 
fear  which  sane  negroes  have  of  madmen,  I  suggested 
to  Dr.  Haskins  that  the  negro  be  locked  into  the  cells 
in  the  basement  where  the  more  violent  lunatics  are  kept. 


The  Shotwell  Papers  429 

At  this  the  scoundrel  suddenly  recovered  his  senses  and 
is  now  at  work  in  the  shops. 

A  note  from  Bro.  M.  at  Princeton  says,  eeI  see  a  tele- 
gram from  Washington  announces  your  release.  Can- 
not understand  the  delay.  There  was  great  rejoicing  in 
Rutherford  when  the  news  arrived"  Indeed!  Seems  to 
me  there  is  another  instance  of  shouting  inside  the 
woods ! 

AN  INFAMOUS  PROPOSAL 

'Squire  Brown's  letters  confirm  the  previous  report 
that  the  foul  hearted  A.  S.  Wallace  upon  being  urged 
by  Judge  Mackey  to  permit  the  old  gentleman  to  be 
pardoned,  (his  signature  being  all  that  was  required), 
brutally  replied  that  Brown  should  be  released  on  one 
condition ;  namely,  that  he  reveal  the  location  of  his  two 
sons  (who  had  sought  safety  in  exile)  and  assist  to  have 
them  exchange  places  with  him!  Could  anything  more 
vile  and  brutal  be  suggested!  The  villains  arrest  an  old 
grey-haired  citizen,  convict  him  without  a  shadow  of 
foundation  for  the  charges,  drag  him  to  a  distant  peni- 
tentiary, and  after  breaking  the  old  man's  spirit  by 
years  of  drudgery,  meet  the  tears  and  appeals  of  his 
lonely  wife  and  daughters  by  a  proposal  to  let  him  come 
home  to  die  if  he  will  act  as  stool-pigeon  to  betray  his 
own  sons  into  chains,  slavery  and  perchance  even  death ; 
for  all  things  are  possible  with  a  negro  jury  and  Bond 
as  judge!  And  this  shameful  proposal  comes  from  a 
public  thief,  who  holds  a  seat  in  Congress  belonging  to 
another! 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEENTH 

Back  to  North  Carolina — Free 

Notwithstanding  I  invariably  assured  my  corre- 
spondents that  there  was  no  likelihood  of  my  release, 
and  although  my  journal  shows  how  little  reliance  I 
placed  on  the  rumors  of  my  release  I  must  have  cher- 
ished a  latent  spark  of  trust  in  them;  for  when,  at 
length,  the  important  document  came,  it  had  no  such 
effect  on  me  as  is  common  in  cases  of  men  suddenly 
turned  loose  after  long  years  of  "Hope  Deferred." 
Hope,  I  think,  was  incorporated  among  the  human  fac- 
ulties for  the  sake  of  the  miserable,  the  sick,  and  especi- 
ally, the  imprisoned.  To  all  men  it  is  a  good  gift,  but 
to  the  wretched  and  the  prisoner  it  is  the  mainspring  of 
life.  Without  it  one  half  of  mankind  would  seek  self 
destruction  before  attaining  the  age  of  40  years;  and 
four  fifths  of  those  who  survived  that  age  would  end 
life  in  a  similar  manner.  Hope  acts  as  the  safety-valve 
of  human  suffering,  raising  the  spirits  to  a  living  tem- 
perature even  amid  circumstances  when  all  earthly  sur- 
roundings seem  created  for  our  special  destruction,  loss, 
suffering,  and  self-imolation !  Surely  there  had  been  lit- 
tle to  keep  alive  my  spirits  during  the  long  period  of  my 
sojourn  within  the  walls  of  Albany  Penitentiary;  yet 
now  that  my  days  therein  were  to  terminate  it  seemed 
as  much  a  matter  of  course  as  if  I  had  been  expecting  to 
stay  the  even  800  days,  and  no  more.  Capt.  Pilsbury 
seems  to  have  expected  a  scene,  as  he  called  me  down 
into  his  private  parlor  and  mysteriously  closed  the  door 
before  drawing  from  his  pocket  the  official  document 
which  was  to  unlock  the  outer  gate.  But  I  did  not  trem- 
ble, nor  weep,  nor  break  down,  nor  make  a  scene,  but 
simply  remarked,  that  I  was  rather  surprised  to  see  it, 
though  I  supposed  they  would  get  tired  of  keeping  me, 
after  awhile.  He  laughed  and  said  he  was  sorry  to  lose 
me,  on  some  accounts,  for  he  didn't  know  where  to  get  a 
good  man  to  take  my  place  as  Steward  of  the  Hospital. 

430 


The  Shotwell  Papers  431 

The  paper  given  me  was  a  large  double  sheet  of 
parchment,  sealed  with  the  "Great  Seal"  of  the  "Uni- 
versal Yankee  Nation,"  and  signed  by  the  autograph 
of  Ulysses  (Hiram)  S.  Grant;  countersigned  by  J.  C. 
Bancroft  Davis,  Acting  Assistant  Secretary  of  State. 
It  announced  that  whereas  one  R.  A.  S.,  had  been  "con- 
victed of  conspiracy  (against  what?)  and  whereas  he 
has  "now  been  imprisoned  more  than  two  years,"  there- 
fore, "be  it  known  that  in  consideration  of  the  premises, 
and  divers  other  good  and  sufficient  reasons,  me  there- 
unto moving,"  do  "hereby  grant  full  and  unconditional 
pardon,"  etc.,  etc. 

But  mark!  "Done  at  the  City  of  Washington  this 
ninth  day  of  August  1873"  etc.,  etc. — nearly  one  month 
ago !  think  of  it ! 

The  time  required  for  the  order  to  go  from  Washing- 
ton to  Raleigh  would  be  about  twelve  hours,  a  single 
day.  To  return  to  Albany  two  days;  or  say  jour  days 
after  the  signing  of  the  document.  Instead  of  this  time 
it  was  nearly  four  weeks  on  the  road!  Nay,  not  on  the 
road,  but  purposely  delayed  at  Raleigh!  When  I 
pointed  to  the  date  of  the  paper,  Capt.  P.  smiled  and 
said,  "Your  Republican  friends  down  South  were  not 
in  a  hurry  to  see  you  back." 

My  own  feelings  were  the  reverse  of  pleasant  on  the 
subject  for  some  of  the  most  harassing  experiences  of 
my  three  years'  prison  life  had  occurred  during  those 
last  weeks.  One  might  suppose  there  would  be  some 
slight  relaxion  of  rigor  by  the  prison  officials  after  it 
became  known  to  them  (as  it  was  known)  that  my  "Par- 
don" (so-called)  had  been  issued,  and  was  on  the  way. 
But  there  was  not  the  slightest  relaxation  even  after 
its  arrival!  The  order  came  in  the  A.  M.  mail 
but  I  heard  nothing  of  it  until  11;  and  was  not 
released  until  3%  P.  M.  In  this  is  seen  the  won- 
derful system  of  the  place.  The  individual  prisoner  has 
no  consideration  whatever ;  there  can  be  no  deviation  of 
the  daily  routine  no  matter  how  it  effects  him.  His  life 
might  depend  on  his  getting  out  at  a  certain  hour,  but  if 
he  got  out  at  that  hour  would  depend  on  whether  the 


432  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Deputy  was  disengaged  of  the  regular  programme  of 
duties. 

Besides  if  the  prisoner  whose  pardon  comes  at  day- 
break is  kept  until  four  or  five  in  the  evening  the  con- 
tractors have  to  pay  for  an  whole  day's  work  supposed  to 
be  done  by  him! 

At  the  noon  hour,  'Squire  Brown  came  in  from  the 
work  shops  in  rather  better  spirits  than  ordinarily,  and 
began  to  tell  me  how  many  pairs  of  shoes  he  had  finished 
when  I  whispered  to  him  that  I  should  take  leave  of  him 
at  some  hour  during  the  afternoon.  It  was  much  of  a 
surprise,  and  the  old  man  nearly  broke  down,  probably 
with  the  feeling  that  all  the  Southern  men  were  getting 
out  while  he  remained.  I  sought  to  encourage  him  by 
showing  him  how  largely  he  gained  by  my  release,  as  I 
should  do  everything  possible  for  his  release.  And  I 
would  make  a  special  effort  to  get  Capt.  Pilsbury  to  ap- 
point him  to  the  vacant  stewardship  which  would  relieve 
him  of  the  drudgery  of  the  shoe  shops. 

At  3I/2  P.  M.  I  took  my  departure  from  the  Hospital 
forever.  It  may  be  allowable  to  mention  that  many  of 
the  convalescents  expressed  regret  at  my  going,  and 
said  they  had  not  had  any  such  care  and  attention  for 
years  as  I  gave  them  when  sick,  tho'  I  held  them  to  strict 
order  and  quietness  when  able  to  leave  their  beds,  and 
sit  up. 

Down  in  the  Main  Hall  I  found  Wm.  Scruggs  who 
was  released  by  expiration  of  his  sentence.  His  route  lay 
with  mine  as  far  as  Charlotte  (he  going  on  to  Spartan- 
burg, S.  C.)  and  he  seemed  very  anxious  to  travel  with 
me  as  he  had  never  been  so  far  from  home  in  his  life  be- 
fore; but  he  had  funds  to  go  directly  home,  and  I  had 
to  stay  until  I  "made"  it  in  some  way.  Here  observe 
the  generosity  of  the  "glorious,"  "best  government;"  a 
Southern  gentleman  is  dragged  from  his  home  and  busi- 
ness without  warrant,  is  convicted  by  bribery  and  cor- 
ruption, and  is  dragged  a  thousand  miles  away  into  an 
inhospitable  climate,  kept  in  a  felon's  cell  for  two  years, 
then  turned  loose  without  a  decent  suit  and  without 
money  to  pay  his  fare  home,  much  less  to  buy  food  en 
route!  An  allowance  of  $10  is  made  to  each  prisoner  re- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  433 

gardless  of  the  distance  he  may  live  from  the  prison.  In 
our  cases  it  would  pay  railway  fare  as  far  South  as  Bal- 
timore without  food ! 

On  unrolling  the  bundle  of  my  citizens  clothing  it 
was  found  to  consist  of  funky  rags  white  with  moths 
and  mildew,  and  so  in  tatters.  It  will  be  remembered 
Marshal  Carrow  instructed  us  to  wear  only  our  com- 
monest clothing  in  coming  here,  and  that  we  arrived  in  a 
drenching  rain.  The  wet  clothes  were  rolled  into  a  bun- 
dle, labeled,  and  tossed  into  the  "clothes-vault/ '  to- 
gether with  the  filthy  rags  of  all  classes,  Negroes,  Chi- 
nese, Malays,  Fejies,  Turks,  Modocs,  etc.,  etc.,  most  of 
which  were  infested  by  all  manner  of  vermin.  The  moths 
had  helped  the  mildew,  and  my  coat  was  literally  in 
shreds,  pantaloons  like  sieves,  waistcoat,  wasted!  As  for 
hat  and  shoes,  they  were  an  insult  to  any  blind  beggar ! 
The  thought  of  going  out  in  the  world  in  such  attire 
made  me  feel  almost  sorry  to  be  released — so  silly  is 
supersensitiveness ! 

At  4  P.  M.  came  the  last  humiliation  within  the  walls. 
I  had  not  seen  any  of  my  fellow-prisoners  from  North 
Carolina  during  the  whole  two  years  term ;  and,  while  I 
had  no  personal  acquaintance  with  them  previous  to  my 
arrest,  I  felt  that  in  view  of  the  similarity  of  our  sym- 
pathies and  sufferings  it  was  but  proper  to  make  an 
effort  to  see  them,  and  carry  home  any  messages  they 
might  desire  to  send.  I  asked  the  Hall  Warden  to  ask 
Capt.  P.  if  I  could  have  this  privilege.  "No!"  said  he 
gruffly,  "Put  on  your  clothes!  I  can't  be  foolin3  round 
here  all  evening.  Them  fellers  is  out  at  work  anyhow/' 
Then  he  fumbled  over  my  satchel,  books,  etc.,  to  see  if 
any  notes  were  concealed  and  called  to  the  Deputy, 
"These  here  fellers  is  ready  to  get  out!"  The  Deputy 
said,  "Come  along!"  and  we  marched  to  the  great  gate 
in  the  outer  wall.  Then  he  seemed  to  relax  somewhat, 
assumed  an  half  smile,  and  remarked:  "Well! — now — 
you  re  all  right!"  and  put  out  his  hand.  I  felt  no  pleasant 
response.  Looking  abroad  over  the  beautiful  grounds, 
with  their  flowery  terraces,  rustic  seats,  miniature  sus- 
pension bridges,  and  other  charming  features  of  a  city 
park,  I  mentally  contrasted  it  all  with  the  life  of  gloom, 


434  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

darkness,  dullness,  drudgery  I  had  led  within  those 
walls  since  that  iron  gate  clanged  behind  me  two  years 
before ;  and  I  recalled  all  the  slights,  rudenesses,  oppres- 
sion of  the  life  of  which  this  man  was  the  cast-iron  per- 
sonification;  and  it  was  hard  not  to  do  as  so  many  pris- 
eners  have  sworn  to  do,  viz:  signalize  the  first  moment 
of  freedom  by  cursing  their  keepers. 

Happily  I  was  able  to  restrain  myself  from  this  folly, 
and  I  took  his  hand  saying  gravely,  " It  was  not f right' 
to  send  me  here!  The  Deputy  mumbled  something, 
slammed  the  great  gate,  and  thus  closed  the  third  year 
of  my  captivity  in  Grant's  Military  and  Political 
Prison. 

HOOTED  BY  YOUNGSTERS 

Passing  down  the  gravelled  avenue,  winding  amid 
the  shade  trees  and  shrubbery,  which  cause  the  Prison's 
outward  appearance  to  resemble  some  splendid  private 
mansion,  we  found  a  large  party  of  city  urchins  playing 
on  the  grass  just  outside  the  Park  gate.  Seeing  us  with 
our  ragged  garb,  and  shorn  heads,  and  carrying  carpet 
sacks,  they  set  up  a  chorus  of  "Here's  yere  con-wicks," 
"Here's  your  Tenny-Pentiary  fellers!  Sa  -  a  -  a  -  y, 
fellers  wot  you'ns  put  in  fur?  Look's  like  you  went  in 
'bout  time  the  ark  went  down  Hudson!"  and  then,  "Bet 
you  them  fellers  killed  somebody!"  "Look  at  that  big 
feller!"  together  with  such  and  similar  pleasing  epithets 
common  among  the  unwashed  gamins  of  a  great  city. 
It  was  hard  not  to  feel  mortified  of  this  first  greeting 
from  the  outside  world,  notwithstanding  our  long  train- 
ing in  all  manner  of  humiliation,  and,  for  all  that  we 
knew,  the  boys  mistook  us  for  real  convicts. 

Accompanying  Scruggs  to  the  street  leading  down  to 
the  steamboat  landing,  (he  expected  to  meet  a  friend  at 
the  wharf  in  New  York)  I  bade  the  little  man  adieu, 
and  saw  the  last  of  him. 

Then  I  sought  a  very  cheap,  fifth-class  hotel,  know- 
ing I  could  not  be  admitted  to  a  better  house  in  my  di- 
lapidated garments,  as  the  people  of  Albany  are  accus- 
tomed to  seeing  released  convicts  on  the  streets  every 


The  Shotwell  Papers  435 

day,  and  would  perhaps  make  a  similar  mistake  as  did 
the  gamins  at  the  gate. 

No  one  can  know,  nor  is  there  any  need  of  telling, 
the  mortification  and  misery  of  such  a  situation  as  was 
mine  at  this  time.  To  a  late  hour  I  walked  the  streets 
of  Albany,  looking  in  at  the  long  rows  of  lighted  win- 
dows, and  repeatedly  reminded  of  some  incident  in 
Dickens's  writings,  whose  wonderful  fidelity  to  nature 
in  certain  phases  of  life  cannot  be  too  highly  extolled. 

[A  blank  of  several  lines  here  occurs  in  the  manu- 
script.} 

I  opened  the  letter  and  found  a  piece  of  delicate 
kindness  on  his  part  that  was  totally  unexpected,  and 
must  ever  close  my  lips  from  saying  anything  harsh  of 
him  or  his ;  whatever  I  may  say  of  the  prison  system  or 
the  understrappers  who  alone  came  in  contact  with  us. 

The  subject  of  the  letter  was  an  order  on  Messrs. 
Wilson,  Crafts  &  Co,  No.  90  street,  to  supply  me 

until  such  time  as  should  be  convenient  for  me  to  repay 
it!  Conceive  what  a  Godsend  this  was  to  me,  as  I  could 
not  take  the  first  step  towards  making  any  money  until 
I  got  a  decent  outfit  of  garments. 

It  will  interest  no  one;  it  pains  me  to  tell  of  the  diffi- 
culties met  with  in  realizing  my  wishes  and  needs.  Suf- 
fice it  I  found  a  kind  friend  in  young  Horace  R.  Hudson, 
of  the  Daily  Times,  associate  editor  with  Col.  T.  C.  Cal- 
licot,  who  also  showed  a  disposition  to  befriend  me. 
Hudson  had  me  to  take  tea  with  him,  and  to  go  with 
him  (he  having  free  passes)  to  the  theatre;  besides  other 
civilities.  He  also  secured  the  acceptance  of  my  articles 
on  "Masonic  Incidents  of  the  Civil  War,"  "Prison 
Glimpses,"  etc.  These  articles  Col.  Callicott  said,  at- 
tracted a  good  deal  of  attention  and  comment.  I  sent  one 
or  two  of  them  to  Genl.  D.  H.  Hill  who  wrote  as  fol- 
lows: 

R.  A.  Shotwell  Esq. — Randolph  Shotwell  has 
sent  us  a  copy  of  the  Albany  (N.  Y.)  News,  in 
which  he  is  writing  a  series  of  Confederate  incidents 
of  the  war.  The  bearing  of  Mr.  Shotwell  in  the  Al- 


436  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

bany  Penitentiary  has  been  very  noble.  He  was 
offered  a  pardon,  if  he  would  come  home  and  can- 
vass for  Grant,  but  refused.  Again  he  was  offered 
a  pardon  to  betray  his  associates  and  indignantly 
refused.  All  honor  to  the  man,  who  can't  be  bought ! 

ONCE  MORE  AT  THE   PENITENTIARY 

Having  resolved  to  wait  no  longer,  but  trust  to  the 
good  fortune  which  sometimes  assists  in  the  darkest  ex- 
tremity, I  attired  myself  with  all  possible  neatness,  bor- 
rowing a  pair  of  gloves,  and  a  cane,  from  Hudson,  and 
walked  out  to  the  Penitentiary  to  fulfill  my  promise  to 
Squire  Brown.  I  had  previously  (when  first  handed  my 
release  paper)  asked  Capt.  P.  to  appoint  the  old  man  to 
the  vacancy  but  had  obtained  no  positive  answer.  Sub- 
sequently I  told  Brown  I  would  make  another  effort. 

Slowly  strolling  up  through  the  shady  walks,  and 
looking  at  the  handsome  facade  of  the  building,  with 
the  office  windows  and  Superintendent's  portion  dis- 
playing rich  curtains,  flowers  in  vases,  and  canary  cages 
swinging  in  the  arches,  I  thought  how  vast  a  difference 
in  the  view  to  one  who  approaches  as  a  prisoner,  and 
one  as  a  visitor.  Doubtless  many  persons,  visiting  the 
place,  on  a  balmy  spring  day  would  fancy  it  a  pleasant 
home  until  they  entered,  passed  through  the  luxurious 
private  apartments,  passed  through  the  Guard  Room 
with  its  long  tier  of  muskets  in  racks,  and  entered 
through  doubled,  muffled  doors  into  the  gloomy  Prison 
proper.  Then  would  be  seen  the  iron  hand  under  the 
glove.  But  how  little  could  any  casual  visitor  appre- 
ciate the  real  severity  of  the  iron-grip  unless  they  were 
crushed  under  it,  and  we  had  been  for  many  a  melan- 
choly day! 

Capt.  Pilsbury  being  absent,  I  sent  my  card  to  Mrs. 
Pilsbury,  who  at  once  hastened  into  the  office,  and  in- 
vited me  to  the  private  parlor.  While  awaiting  her  ap- 
pearance, however,  several  of  the  under-officers  had 
gathered  near  the  Hall  door,  and  were  in  quite  a  state 
of  wonderment,  as  was  shown  by  the  muttered  inquiry 
— "Aint  that  the  feller  what  was  cribbed  in  No.  9,  first 
tier,  an'  worked  in  shoe  shop  4?"  "Yes,"  was  the  reply, 


The  Shotwell  Papers  437 

"I  know'd  he'd  get  out,  as  soon  as  he  got  up  in  the  Hos- 
pital. None  of  'em  stays  more'n  a  while  or  so  after  they 
gits  up  thar." 

Probably  their  mystification  grew  stronger  as  they 
saw  Mrs.  P.  take  a  seat  with  me,  chatting  pleasantly, 
and  I  was  glad  of  it,  as  the  effect  could  not  but  be  bene- 
ficial for  the  other  poor  Southerners  still  subject  to  the 
authority  of  these  understrappers.  It  would  open  the 
eyes  of  the  latter  to  the  fact  that  our  men  were  in  prison 
and  wearing  convict  garb,  but  not  as  felons. 

Mrs.  Pilsbury  is  a  pleasant-faced,  well-preserved,  lit- 
tle woman,  mother  of  two  handsome  children,  of  whom 
she  is  very  proud,  and  also,  of  her  husband;  not  forget- 
ting, either,  that  she  lives  in  style,  and  rides  in  her  car- 
riage, and  will  be  mistress  of  some  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  a  few  years,  as  her  husband  inherits  the  bulk 
of  the  old  General's  property,  which  was  above  $120,- 
000,  in  stocks,  bonds,  etc.,  when  he  died. 

Nevertheless  the  lady  was  very  kind,  as  well  as  cour- 
teous, in  her  demeanor,  and  expressions  to  me,  and  men- 
tioned how  anxious  she  had  been  frequently  to  send  me 
something  nice  to  eat,  but  was  imperatively  forbidden  by 
her  husband,  who  did  not  wish  the  precedent  to  be  set. 
Nevertheless  she  had  once  put  a  piece  of  pie  in  my  sup- 
per pan,  and  once  a  small  glass  of  strawberry  jelly.  I 
supposed  at  the  time  that  they  had  gotten  into  my  pan 
through  some  mistake. 

It  appears  she  knew  nothing  of  my  case  until  we  had 
been  in  the  cells  more  than  twelve  months ;  her  interest 
in  us  being  awakened  by  the  letters  written  to  us,  and  by 
us,  (she  assisting  her  husband  to  open  and  examine  the 
weekly  Prison  mail,  in  those  days)  and  particularly 
after  receiving  the  letters  from  her  old  acquaintance, 
Mrs.  Doctor  Twitty  of  Spartanburg,  S.  C.  The  latter 
lady  being  of  Northern  birth,  and  only  a  few  years  in 
the  South,  was  better  able  to  speak  dispassionately  of 
the  outrageous  conduct  of  the  Federal  officials;  so  that 
her  statement  had  great  weight  and  were  of  benefit  to  us. 

Shortly  after  my  arrival,  Mrs.  Pilsbury  called  for  her 
young  sister  Miss  Belle  Hendricks  to  come  into  the 
parlor,  and  meet  me.  The  younger  lady  seemed  quite 


438  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

averse  to  coming,  but  on  entering  the  room,  and  being 
introduced,  she  became  entirely  affable  and  agreeable. 
She  has  passed  one  or  more  winters  in  Florida,  and  ex- 
pressed much  fondness  for  Southern  customs  and  modes 
of  living,  so  different  from  the  Northern  ways.  She  was 
a  pretty  and  stylish  girl  of  twenty.  While  we  were  con- 
versing, Deputy  Scripture  bustled  into  the  room  osten- 
sibly to  inquire  for  Capt.  Pilsbury,  but  really  to  see  if  it 
were  true  that  I  had  come  back  to  the  Prison — by  the 
front  entrance — and  what  I  came  for.  Seeing  me,  gen- 
teelly dressed,  sitting  with  the  ladies,  he  was  amazed,  and 
made  an  exclamation  equivalent  to  "Ah!  is  that  you?" 
and  he  half  stepped  towards  me,  as  if  to  shake  hands. 
But  just  then,  at  that  very  instant,  I  happened  to  feel 
like  asking  Mrs.  Pilsbury  something  about  the  gigantic 
oleander  which  occupied  a  tub  in  the  corner,  and  my 
back  was  turned  to  Scripture.  It  must  be  confessed  I 
felt  a  boyish  pleasure  in  thus  disconcerting  the  man,  for 
he  had  given  me  many  a  browbeating  and  heartache. 
Scripture  mumbled  some  remark  about  not  waiting  and 
left  the  room. 

Capt.  Pilsbury  came  after  a  time,  and  greeted  me 
courteously,  but  not  without  an  elevation  of  the  eye- 
brows and  a  curious  look  as  if  to  ask  why  it  was  I  yet 
lingered  in  Albany,  instead  of  hastening  home.  And  I 
did  not  feel  like  explaining  to  him  the  necessity. 

However  he  answered  my  appeals,  in  favor  of  old 
'Squire  Brown  by  a  promise  to  make  him,  at  least,  an 
assistant  steward,  which  would  relieve  him  of  drudgery 
in  the  shoe-shops. 

HOMEWARD  BOUND 

Early  next  morning,  Horace  Hudson  walked  with 
me  to  the  train,  where  I  made  an  hasty  adieu,  leaving 
him  to  think  me  rather  ungrateful,  I  fear,  as  I  momen- 
tarily forgot  his  kind  attentions  in  the  flood  of  recollec- 
tions connected  with  the  weary  period  of  my  stay  in 
Albany.  Beside  I  was  half  sick.  Long  confinement  had 
rendered  me  subject  to  torpidity  of  the  liver,  and  instead 
of  taking  medicine  for  relief  I  took  stimulants  to  sus- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  439 

tain  (fearing  a  spell  of  sickness)  and  thus  only  aggra- 
vated the  ailment. 

The  long  and  dusty  ride  down  the  Hudson,  the 
coaches  swaying  as  much  as  on  a  North  Carolina  road, 
naturally  produced  sea-sickness  in  my  bilious  condition ; 
so  that,  on  arriving  in  New  York,  I  could  scarcely  sit 
up,  much  less  walk.  I  called  a  cab,  and  was  driven  to  the 
Southern  Hotel,  where  I  had  telegraphed  for  brother 
to  meet  me;  but  the  begemmed  individual  who  conde- 
scended to  stand  behind  the  desk,  and  look  stylish,  de- 
clined to  accept  me  as  a  guest,  because  of  my  suspicious 
looks,  I  suppose;  or  perchance  'twas  my  lack  of  Sara- 
toga baggage.  Luckily  the  National  Hotel  clerk,  a  less 
gorgeous  representative  of  the  Retired  Millionaires' 
Club,  gave  me  a  room.  It  was  time.  Half  an  hour  later 
I  was  in  bed  almost  unconscious. 

Next  day  Bro.  M.  came  over  from  Princeton  Col- 
lege, and  thenceforth  I  had  every  attention  that  his 
energy  and  affection  could  procure,  though  confined  to 
bed  for  two  days  or  so.  Ah!  those  wretched  days!  Trial 
and  suffering  and  mortification  had  left  me  crippled  in 
body,  and  mind;  so  much  so  that  all  the  world  seemed 
strange  and  different  to  me.  I  thought,  while  in  prison, 
I  was  bearing  up  bravely,  becoming  quite  philosophic 
and  hardened,  but  at  the  first  breath  of  free  life  I  rea- 
lized how  far  I  had  retrograded  in  all  respects.  It  may 
illustrate  the  feeling  to  say  that  I  shrank  from  going  to 
the  hotel  table,  was  bewildered  on  Broadway,  and  could 
not  walk  half  a  mile  without  as  much  tremor  as  a  weak 
invalid.  It  could  hardly  have  been  otherwise.  Human 
nature  is  not  constituted  nor  meant  to  endure  a  con- 
tinuous strain  such  as  I  had  been  going  through. 

AMONG  THE  NEWSPAPERS 

As  soon  as  able  to  sit  up  on  bed  I  began  the  prepara- 
tions of  some  articles,  which  I  hoped  to  be  able  to  sell 
to  the  daily  papers.  Green  as  grass,  I  knew  not  how 
hopeless  was  any  such  effort  in  the  great  city  where 
hundreds  of  sharp-witted,  well-trained  journalists  are 
constantly  failing  in  similar  endeavors,  owing  to  the 
plethora  of  more  interesting  news-matters.  Three  offices 


44*0  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

we  visited,  two,  or  three  times  each  before  we  found 
the  managing  editor.  The  Herald  had  not  time  to  read. 
The  Sun  didn't  want  the  articles,  but  might  use  a  spicy- 
sketch  of  the  Klan,  if  I  would  write  it.  The  World  ac- 
cepted one  of  my  articles,  but  when  I  went  next  day  to 
inquire  when  it  would  appear  an  editor  could  not  pos- 
sibly say;  perhaps  not  for  several  months;  meanwhile 
"would  I  accept  a  trifle?"  viz:  a  dollar!  I  bowed,  and 
walked  down  the  stairs  so  blind  I  missed  my  way  and 
came  out  on  another  street.  Then  hastened  back  to  my 
little  room  at  the  hotel  utterly  out  of  heart ! 

AT   PRINCETON 

Next  day,  Bro.  M.  took  me  to  Central  Park,  with 
which  he  was  perfectly  familiar  from  his  frequent  vis- 
its in  vacation  time,  and  the  effect  of  the  day  in  the  open 
air  and  sunshine  strengthened  me  sufficiently  to  under- 
take another  stage  of  my  homeward  journey.  At  6 
P.  M.  we  took  the  train  for  Princeton,  N.  J.  where  I 
spent  the  Sabbath,  the  major  portion  of  the  time  in  bed, 
as  I  was  still  quite  sick. 

During  Sunday  evening,  however,  we  walked  out  to 
see  the  College  buildings,  and  other  objects  of  interest, 
as  Princeton  is  our  family  college.  Father  himself  grad- 
uated at  it,  and  also  at  the  Seminary.  Bro.  Hamilton 
and  I  both  "prepared"  to  enter,  and  had  the  war  held 
off  two  months  longer  I  should  have  been  duly  enrolled 
as  a  Sophomore  of  the  Pater's  Alma  Mater, 

Bro.  M.  had  spent  three  years  at  Edge  Hill  Prepar- 
atory School  in  the  suburbs,  and  afterwards  four  years 
in  the  college  proper.  His  seven  years  in  the  place  had 
made  him  quite  a  citizen  of  it,  and  he  had  numerous  in- 
vitations by  friends  to  bring  me  to  see  them.  Among 
these  was  Mrs.  John  R.  Thompson,  the  gay  young 
widow  of  the  well  known  literateur. 

But  I  was  not  in  a  mood  to  pay  a  visit  though  a  Queen 
had  besought  it.  Bro.  M.,  having  assisted  me,  to  the  ut- 
most of  his  ability,  accompanied  me  to  Phila.  next  eve- 
ning, where  we  parted,  en  route  for  Bryn  Mawr  where 
he  expected  to  join  a  party  of  eight  couples  of  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  invited  by  the  daughter  of  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  441 

Supt.  of  the  Eastern  Division  of  the  Penna.  Railroad, 
to  go  on  a  pleasure  jaunt  into  the  mountains.  The  party 
travelled  in  two  Pullman  Parlor  Coaches,  with  kitchen 
car,  etc.,  including  a  settee  fastened  in  front  of  the  loco- 
motive for  smoking  room,  etc.  It  was  a  delightful  trip, 
especially  so  to  him,  from  several  cirsumstances.1 

BALTIMORE 

Leaving  the  West  Phila.  Depot  at  11%  P-  M.,  very 
sleepy  and  weary,  I  arrived  in  the  Monumental  City  at 
4  A.  M.  before  daybreak  yet  too  near  it  for  me  to  waste 
one  of  my  few  dollars  in  taking  a  bed.  Besides  I  had 
already  had  a  surfeit  of  investigation  by  the  New  York 
and  Albany  specimens  of  the  gorgeous  creature  who 
entertains  the  dignity  and  mock-diamonds  of  hotel 
clerk :  therefore  I  hunted  a  soft  spot  on  the  rough  plank 
bench  in  a  corner  of  the  car-sheds,  and  waited  for  dawn ; 
and  not  without  fear  that  I  should  be  arrested  for  a 
trespasser  by  some  stupid  specimen  of  the  police. 

Sitting  thus,  crouched  in  a  corner,  amid  the  grime 
and  smoke  of  the  depot,  I  felt  not  a  little  annoyance, 
nay  mortification's  the  word,  at  being  forced  to  resort  to 
all  these  makeshifts  to  reach  my  home  after  being 
dragged  away  in  so  wicked  a  way ;  but  there  was  no  help 
for  it. 

After  a  cheap  breakfast  (including  use  of  wash-basin, 
etc. )  I  hunted  up  a  directory  and  hunted  down  the  only 
friend  in  the  city  of  whom  I  knew,  viz:  Capt.  Matt 
Manly,  son  of  Judge  Mathias  "E.  Manly,  of  Newbern, 
U.  S.  Senator  in  1866-7  but  not  permitted  to  take  his 
seat.  Matt  is  an  high  bred,  courteous,  gallant  gentle- 
man; without  an  equal  in  some  respects,  among  the 
young  men  of  my  acquaintance.  He  commanded  a  bat- 
tery of  artillery  during  the  war  with  skill  and  valor, 
notwithstanding  his  youth.  He  was  now  associated  in 
the  commission  and  brokerage  business  with  Bart  S. 
Johnston.  Both  members  of  the  firm  happened  to  be  at 
their  warehouse,  corner  of  Lombard  and  Frederick 
streets,  and  gave  me  a  cordial  welcome.  Matt,  at  once, 
sent  for  my  valise,  and  escorted  me  to  his  room,  insist- 
ent that  I  should  spend  a  day  with  them.  At  his  com- 

l  This  paragraph  is  crossed  out  in  the  manuscript. 


442  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

fortable  rooms,  after  a  bath  and  change  of  garments, 
I  felt  as  one  who  suddenly  steps  out  of  the  darkness  and 
rain  into  a  warm  room.  Do  these  minutiae  seem  triv- 
ial? Far  different  they  seemed  to  me  at  the  time;  and  I 
record  them  because  details  of  kindness  ought  never  to 
be  forgotten,  and  in  these  particulars  of  suffering  and 
ill  usage  are  illustrated  the  injustice  and  outrage  of  my 
enemies. 

By  invitation  of  Capt.  Johnston  I  took  dinner  at  the 
St.  Clair  House  together  with  some  fifteen  or  twenty 
North  Carolinians  doing  business  in  Baltimore.  All  were 
very  cordial,  and  urged  me  to  go  to  their  houses  and 

have  a  chat  with  them;  but  I  had  not  time,  nor . 

Among  these  were  Capt.  W.  C.  Coughenour  of  Salis- 
bury; M.  A.  Bencini  of  the  same  town,  with  C.  S.  Beebe, 
94  Lombard;  C.  E.  Mills,  242  West  Bait.  St.,  Capt 
G.  W.  Clayton;  Merrimon;  P.  A.  Dunn;  Tom 

Gash  of  Brevard,  Jas.  Erwin  of  Hendersonville. 

AFTER  DARKNESS  LIGHT 

After  tea  a  party  was  made  up  to  accompany  me  to 
the  theatre  to  witness  the  play  of  "After  Dark,"  then 
making  considerable  stir.  The  scenes  were  well-mounted, 
and  realistic,  so  real  as  to  result  in  a  finale  not  antici- 
pated by  the  players.  The  closing  scene  represented  the 
hero,  bound  hand  and  foot,  stretched  across  the  rails  of 
a  railway-track  in  a  tunnel.  The  roar  of  a  lightning 
train,  coming  at  full  speed  was  heard.  The  rattle  of  the 
wheels  was  very  life-like,  and  at  length  the  glare  of  the 
locomotive  headlight  appeared  in  the  tunnel.  At  the 
precise  nick  of  time,  the  heroine  rushed  in  to  release  her 
lover,  who  rolled  off  the  track  just  as  the  ponderous 
train  rushed  down  through  the  tunnel,  the  wheels  ring- 
ing along  the  track,  the  steam  hissing,  and  the  sparks 
flying  precisely  like  a  real  locomotive.  Unfortunately 
it  was  too  natural  and  the  shower  of  sparks  fell  among 
the  heavy  curtains,  there  to  smoulder  until  the  theatre 
became  deserted,  when  they  leaped  into  flames,  seized 
the  drapery  of  the  boxes,  and  the  dry  wood  seasoned  by 
successive  coats  of  paint  until  like  a  tinder  in  inflama- 
bility,  and  there  could  be  no  suppressing  them! 


The  Shotwell  Papers  443 

The  "Old  Holliday  Street  Theatre"  was  one  of  the 
best  known  in  America.  It  had  witnessed  the  acting  of 
all  the  great  players  of  the  past  century  of  the  American 
Boards. 

It  was  a  narrow  escape  from  a  great  panic,  as  the 
theatre  which  was  crowded  at  11  P.  M.  was  in  ashes  at 
midnight;  together  with  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  Balti- 
more Commercial  College,  and  other  buildings. 

DOWN   THE   BAY 

On  the  following  morning  Matt  accompanied  me  to 
the  steamboat  wharf  but  was  not  able  to  obtain  the 
transportation  he  sought  for  me.  Fortunately  Capt. 
Johnston  had  a  friend  in  the  superintendent  of  the  rival 
line  and  after  several  long  walks  succeeded  in  finding 
him.  Supt.  Smith  cordially  granted  the  "pass,"  and  at 
5  P.  M.  I  boarded  the  vessel.  Before  doing  so,  Matt 
Manly  handed  me  a  sealed  note  to  "look  at,  at  your 
leisure."  It  was  his  delicate  way  of  loaning  me  a  sum 
for  my  homeward  journey.  The  money  I  have  long 
since  returned,  but  the  thoughtful  kindness  remains  un- 
paid, and  I  fear  must  so  continue  indefinitely. 

As  we  swung  down  the  Bay  on  the  "Gude  ship  Ade- 
laide," at  sunset,  I  stood  under  the  awning  on  the  rear- 
deck  watching  the  magnificent  scene,  the  distant  shores, 
the  countless  sailing  vessels,  and  the  broad  expanse  of 
gold-tipped  wavelets;  and  wondering  how  soon  I 
should  pass  over  this  route  again,  and  under  what  cir- 
cumstances! In  August,  1861,  I  had  passed  down  as  a 
school-boy,  flirting  with  the  captain's  daughter,  and 
bound  for  Beauregard's  army  at  Manassas.  In  July 
1864,  I  had  passed  up  as  a  prisoner,  cooped  in  a  filthy 
hold  of  a  rocking  steamer,  with  a  thousand  fellow-pris- 
oners, suffering  the  torments  of  the  condemned. 

Again  in  1865,  I  had  gone  down,  in  rags,  penniless, 
subjugated,  with  all  the  future  blank,  with  all  the  losses 
of  the  war,  and  eleven  months  of  close  confinement 
wearing  upon  me. 

And  then  the  melancholy  return  Northward,  in  irons, 
under  sentence  of  six  years  at  hard  labor,  in  1871;  and 
now  once  again — back ! 


444  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

Strange,  sad  milestones  in  the  years  of  my  youth  were 
these!  But  how  little  hope  of  the  next  ones  being  any 
brighter ! 

A  TERRIBLE  TEMPTATION 

Capt.  Bart.  Johnston  had  introduced  me  to  Capt. 
A.  B.  Andrews,  Supt.  of  the  Raleigh  &  Gaston  R.  R., 
who  chanced  to  be  going  down  on  the  Adelaide.  He 
proved  to  be  a  very  courteous  gentleman  whose  kind 
attentions  under  the  circumstances  were  invaluable. 
Seeing  that  I  sat  on  deck,  he  insisted  that  I  should  take 
a  state-room,  and  have  meals  regularly,  regardless  of 
my  pocketbook.  His  heartiness  finally  overcame  my 
sensitiveness,  and  I  went  down  to  tea.  By  a  singular  co- 
incidence I  was  given,  by  the  steward,  a  seat  at  a  sepa- 
rate table  at  the  head  of  the  others.  Two  men  were  al- 
ready at  this  table,  but  I  was  somewhat  blinded  by  com- 
ing out  of  the  darkness  into  the  glare  of  the  dining  room 
and  did  not  recognize  in  the  short  squat  figure  across 
the  table,  the  American  counterpart  of  Brutal  "Jef- 
freys"— Judge  Hugh  L.  Bond!  'Twas  the  very  creature, 
sleek  and  slippery  with  the  fat  proceeds  of  many  a  vile 
deed  in  the  service  of  his  lawless  master! 

And,  as  was  fitting,  in  his  travelling  companion  I 
recognized  a  secret  service  spy,  who,  if  I  mistake  not  his 
smirking  face,  accompanied  the  "Safe-Burglary  Plot- 
ter" Whitley  to  Albany  to  brow  beat  and  vilify  me,  be- 
cause I  would  not  sell  myself  to  them. 

Bond  recognized  me  before  I  him,  and  on  catching 
mY  eye  gave  me  a  very  marked  bow  of  recognition,  at 
the  same  time  raising  the  butter-dish  for  which  I  had 
extended  my  arm.  It  is  needless  to  say  I  had  no  recog- 
nition for  him,  nor  accepted  any  civility  at  his  hand. 
Had  I  taken  the  dish  before  recognizing  him  I  must 
certainly  have  thrown  it  into  his  face ;  and  I  confess  this 
piece  of  rudeness  seemed  too  tempting  to  resist. 

Recall  if  you  can  what  misery  this  man  had  imposed 
upon  me,  and  how  trying  it  was  thus  to  meet  him  be- 
fore reaching  home !  It  was,  therefore,  with  real  thank- 
fulness I  saw  him  get  up  and  leave  the  table ;  for  the 
spirit  of  resentment  was  strong  upon  me.  Had  I  at- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  445 

tacked  him,  knife  in  hand,  it  would  have  been  a  serious 
business  for  one  or  both  of  us. 

Returning  to  the  grand  saloon  I  was  joined  by  the 
genial  and  handsome  commander  of  the  Adelaide,  Capt. 
Mayo,  an  whole  souled  Southerner,  who  expressed 
warm  sympathy  for  me  and  speaking  of  Bond,  said, 
"Well,  I'm  for  peace  as  a  rule,  but  after  what  you've 
suffered  you're  entitled  to  some  satisfaction,  and  if 
you  whip  Bond  it  wont  matter.  He's  got  no  jurisdiction 
on  board  this  boat!" 

Capt.  Andrews,  however,  urged  me  to  make  no  dem- 
onstration as  my  conduct  would  be  watched,  and  an  out- 
break affecting  one  so  great  a  favorite  with  Grant  would 
destroy  all  hope  of  release  for  the  poor  men  still  at  Al- 
bany. The  Grantites  would  say,  "No  use  of  asking  any 
more  pardons.  We  released  Shotwell  and  before  reach- 
ing home  he  fell  upon  Judge  Bond  and  beat  him  to 
jelly!" 

BACK  TO  RALEIGH 

Capt.  Andrews  proved  to  be  a  very  thoughtful  com- 
rade. Arrived  at  Portsmouth,  he  whispered  to  Conduc- 
tor Cromwell  who  thereupon  forgot  to  call  for  my  ticket, 
aware  perhaps  that  I  had  forgotten  to  get  one.  On 
reaching  Weldon,  Capt.  A,  being  now  on  his  own  road, 
passed  me  on  to  Raleigh.  Nay  more,  he  telegraphed  to 
several  points  in  Virginia  to  find  Col.  H.  A.  Buford,  of 
the  N.  C.  R.  R.,  who  replied  by  the  same  means  to  the 
agent,  to  pass  me  on  to  Charlotte.  Agent  Geo.  Jones 
made  haste  to  bring  me  the  pass,  and  to  express  his 
pleasure  in  being  allowed  to  do  so.  I  had  known  him 
casually  at  Goldsboro. 

Arriving  at  the  Raleigh  depot  we  found  quite  a  num- 
ber of  friends,  though  it  had  been  reported  I  had  gone 
by  the  Danville  route.  They  generally  came  to  speak 
with  me,  though  I  knew  only  the  faces  of  Mr.  Kings- 
bury, Dr.  Blacknall,  and  one  or  two  others.  Dr.  B.  at 
once  gave  me  a  pressing  invitation  to  stop  with  him  for 
a  day  or  two,  and  was  very  clever  in  his  attentions.  It 
was  necessary  for  me  to  wait  until  the  next  day's  train 
(there  was  but  one  daily)  to  get  the  pass  from  Col.  Bu- 


446  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

ford;  so  I  accepted  the  Doctor's  invitation,  and  took  a 
room  at  the  Yarborough. 

During  the  afternoon,  evening,  and  following  day  I 
was  closely  besieged  by  persons — I  suppose  I  may  say 
friends — anxious  to  hear  all  about  my  imprisonment, 
etc.,  etc.  Popular  sentiment  was  wonderfully  changed 
since  the  day  I  marched  down  the  street  in  front  of  the 
Yarborough  manacled  to  poor  Teal,  and  surrounded  by 
a  gang  of  Yankee  bayonets  and  a  hooting  rabble.  Peo- 
ple had  gotten  over  their  uneasiness,  had  gotten  to  see 
more  clearly  the  true  inwardness  of  the  Ku  Klux  prose- 
cutions; and  perhaps  to  see  that  all  the  oaths  of  per- 
jured witnesses  could  not  make  a  man  degraded  if  he 
were  not  a  criminal.  Among  those  who  came  to  talk  with 
me  were  Senator  Matt  W.  Ransom,  Gen.  W.  R.  Cox, 
Col.  D.  M.  Carter,  Maj.  Blount,  Pulaski  Cowper,  Sion 
H.  Rogers. 

On  Friday  afternoon,  at  5,  I  took  the  train  for  Char- 
lotte. Rev.  Dr.  R.  H.  Chapman,  and  wife  were  on  the 
train,  and  Mrs.  C.  was  exceedingly  enthusiastic  and 
sympathizing.  Some  of  her  expressions  were  too  kind  to 
repeat;  for  she  has  the  real  Irish  vehemence  of  like  and 
dislike!  Other  friends  were  on  the  train.  Col.  Webb  of 
Hillsboro,  Vorhees,  et  als.  Some  curious  manifestations 
of  sympathy  were  offered.  Mr.  W.  L.  McGee,  of 
Franklinton,  gave  me  a  pair  of  sleeve  buttons,  of  imi- 
tation coral,  representing  a  Ku  Klux  "Death's-Head 
and  Cross-Bones."  Mr.  P.  Lyon,  of  Durham,  offered 
me  a  dollar  greenback! 

CHARLOTTE 

At  Charlotte  as  at  Raleigh  I  registered  my  name  as 
"R.  A.  Shotwell  from  Albany  Penitentiary;"  not  in  any 
unseemly  spirit  of  bravado  but  simply  and  solely  be- 
cause I  wished  to  let  people  understand  from  the  onset 
that  I  had  no  shrinking  nor  shame  f  acedness  over  the 
fact  that  I  had  been  confined  in  the  Radical  Bastille. 
Perhaps  had  I  known  the  public  sentiment  I  should  not 
have  registered  as  it  was  liable  to  mislead  persons  into 
supposing  I  wished  to  attract  attention  or  be  lionized; 
whereas  I  preferred  just  the  opposite.  How  easily  are 


The  Shotwell  Papers  447 

the  best  of  intentions  misconstrued  to  one's  disadvan- 
tage. 

During  Sunday  I  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Mrs.  'Squire 
Sam  Brown  of  York  County,  S.  C.  telling  her  many 
particulars  of  her  husband's  situation  and  life  at  Al- 
bany that  she  could  not  learn  through  his  letters,  re- 
stricted, limited,  and  watched  as  they  were  by  the  prison 
authorities. 

Mrs.  Brown  replied  very  heartily,  thanking  me,  in 
the  highest  terms,  for  "the  earnest  efforts  put  forth  by 
you  to  secure  my  husband's  release.  I  need  hardly  say 
it  though  I  repeat,  you  have  the  heartfelt  and  sincere 
thanks  of  myself  and  daughters  for  the  very  kind  inter- 
est you  manifest  and  the  kind  sympathy  you  express 
for  us  all,  and  your  earnest  effort  in  behalf  [of]  one  who 
is  near  and  dear  to  us,"  etc.1 

I  also  wrote  to  Genl.  B.  Kershaw. 

I  also  wrote  to  Col.  S.  D.  Pool  thanking  him  for  his 
congratulatory  telegram  though  I  had  not  forgotten  his 
thoughtless  comments  on  my  conviction  which  had  cut 
me  to  the  heart  at  a  time  when  I  needed  all  my  strength 
for  the  inevitable  rigors  of  my  situation.  But  he  only 
had  followed  other  examples. 

Among  others  who  called  on  me  were  Mr.  W.  J. 
Yates,  whose  thoughtfulness  in  sending  me  a  copy  of 
his  paper  containing  the  impeachment  of  Judge  Logan, 
had  made  me  warmly  his  friend;  Joseph  P.  Caldwell, 
whose  kindly  mention  of  my  return  will  appear  on  the 
following  page;  and  also  Genl.  D.  H.  Hill,  the  Hero 
of  "South  Mountain  Pass,"  or  "Boonsboro  Battle"  who 
had  spoken  very  kindly  of  my  articles  in  the  Albany 
Times.  His  visit  gave  me  a  special  encouragement  as 
he  mentioned  to  me  that  he  had  accepted  a  Professor- 
ship in  the  Carolina  Military  Institute,  (in  which  he 
had  formerly  been  Superintendent)  and  should  need  an 
assistant  editor  for  his  paper,  the  Southern  Home.  I  as- 

1  In  Shotwell's  scrap-book,  under  date  of  Jan  5,  1874,  appears  the  following 
clipping : 

S.  G.  Brown,  Esq. — We  are  truly  gratified  to  learn  that  this  old  gentleman  has 
got  home  to  York,   S.  C.  in  safety. 

It  is  terrible  to  reflect  that  an  aged  and  highly  respected  citizen  has  been  two 
years  an  inmate  in  Albany  Prison,  as  one  of  the  victims  to  re-elect  Gen.  Grant. 
We  trust  that  the  malice  of  the  donkey-Congressman  has  at  last  been  satiated, 
and  that  Mr.  Brown  will  be  permitted  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family.   (Gen.  Hill) 


448  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

sured  him  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  take  such 
a  position  were  it  not  that  I  had  set  my  heart  on  getting 
control  of  a  paper  either  at  Rutherfordton,  at  Shelby, 
at  Lincolnton,  at  Marion,  or  Morganton — some  point 
within  easy  reach  of  the  scene  of  my  sufferings  in  Ruth- 
erfordton but  if  not  able  to  effect  any  such  arrange- 
ment, I  should  be  glad  to  join  with  him. 

SHELBY 

From  Charlotte  to  Rutherfordton  is  about  sixty 
miles  by  direct  line,  but  the  distance  by  rail  is  greater, 
and  requires  two  days  travel,  spending  the  night  in 
Shelby,  twelve  miles  beyond  the  (then)  terminus  of  the 
Railroad,  Cherryville.  From  Shelby  to  Rutherfordton, 
a  rickety  old  buggy  carries  the  mail,  and  any  stray  pas- 
senger, a  distance  of  twenty-six  miles,  counted  by  geo- 
graphical measuring  rods,  perches,  or  poles,  (princi- 
pally poles)  :  but  a  full  day's  journey  counting  by  the 
slow  crawling  of  John  Peter  Eaves 's  "government 
mule." 

At  Woodlawn,  Iron  Station,  and  at  Lincolnton  a 
number  of  friends  were  at  the  depot,  not  specially  to  see 
me,  for  they  had  been  expecting  me  a  week  before  and 
had  concluded  I  was  gone  around  by  Morganton,  or 
Spartanburg  either  of  which  were  about  as  near;  but 
they  expressed  much  pleasure  that  I  was  free.  I  had 
hoped  to  see  quite  a  number  of  friends  at  Lincolnton; 
and  I  made  special  inquiries  for  Capt.  John  Justice, 
who  had  spent  a  night  with  me  not  long  before  my  ar- 
rest; David  Schenk,  the  well-known  lawyer,  whom  I 
had  regarded  as  a  faithful  Klansman;  Vardry  McBee, 
Ben  S.  Guion,  et  al.  In  truth,  it  seemed  a  little  singular 
that  Mr.  Schenk,  against  whom  I  had  been  repeatedly 
urged  to  testify  and  for  whom  I  remained  two  years 
in  durance  vile,  the  vilest  that  ever  man  bore,  should 
not  even  walk  one  or  two  hundred  yards  to  welcome  me, 
after  all  my  sufferings.  But  the  fact  that  my  coming 
had  been  announced  for  several  previous  days  no  doubt 
accounted  for  his  absence  now:  he  possibly  came  before, 
and  had  given  up  looking  for  me.  How  ignorant  of  the 


The  Shotwell  Papers  449 

man,  and  his  character,  I  was  in  thus  excusing  his  un- 
grateful negligence !  But  of  this,  more  anon ! 

A  cordial  welcome  awaited  me  at  Shelby.  As  soon  as 
I  alighted  from  the  hack,  the  citizens  came  in  numbers 
and  congratulated  me  heartily.  Perhaps  no  county  in 
Carolina  is  more  unanimously  Democratic  and  seven  in 
ten  had  been  members  of  the  Klan.  Moreover  they  were 
specially  friendly  to  me  because  my  father  often  visited 
them,  and  preached  for  them,  helping  to  establish  a 
congregation  among  them.  The  people  of  Shelby,  it 
will  be  recollected,  were  the  only  ones  in  the  State  to 
give  me  practical  evidences  of  sympathy  and  esteem. 
The  ladies  had  made  a  contribution  of  $65,  for  the  seven 
sufferers  by  the  Logan- Scoggins  handcuffing  spiteful- 
ness.  It  was  the  Shelby  Literary  Society  which  had 
elected  me  their  honorary  member  at  a  time  when  I  was 
toiling  from  dawn  till  dusk  in  a  felon's  cell,  wearing 
felon's  garb,  and  doomed  to  years  of  such  life.  Here, 
too,  was  the  home  of  Plato  Durham,  who  had  proven 
himself  so  truly  my  friend,  when  to  be  a  friend  at  all 
was  to  be  a  "a  friend  indeed." 

Needless  to  say  I  was  sincerely  glad  to  meet  each  and 
all  of  these  friends.  They  knew  of  the  "Reign  of  Terror 
in  Rutherford;"  they  knew  the  vile  character  of  the  men 
who  slanderously  swore  against  me;  and  they  knew  the 
pressure  I  had  to  bear. 

Capt.  Plato  Durham,  I  was  most  anxious  of  all  my 
friends  to  see,  and  talk  with,  and  we  had  a  long  conver- 
sation; a  sad  one  for  both.  He  was  very  nervous  and 
irritable,  having  lost  much  of  the  calmness  which  made 
him,  in  1868,  like  a  tower  of  Truth  and  Manhood  sur- 
rounded by  snarling,  snapping,  sneaking  spaniels,  yelp- 
ing at  him  because  he  threw  light  upon  their  scoundrelly 
schemes  and  stealings. 

Many  things,  in  some  his  own  fault,  in  the  majority 
the  fault  of  others,  and  illustrating  the  meanness  and 
ingratitude  of  politicians,  had  led  him  into  drinking 
more  freely  than  his  deep,  impassioned  yet  reserved  na- 
ture could  bear;  and  between  the  irritability  born  of 
these  habits,  and  a  sense  of  injustice  and  ill-treatment, 
he  became  politically  reckless  doing  and  saying  things 


450  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

which  weakened  his  hold  on  the  Democrats  without 
adding  to  his  strength  among  the  Radicals,  as  indeed  he 
did  not  desire. 

HOME 

At  dusk  next  evening,  Bro.  Addison,  who  had  come 
to  Shelby  for  me  in  the  buggy,  drove  me  over  the  brow 
of  the  "Mile  Hill"  whence  the  village  of  Rutherfordton 
may  be  seen  stretched  along  a  ridge,  but  so  surrounded 
by  higher  hills  that  it  looks  like  a  platform  of  an  am- 
phitheatre. Prominent  above  all  other  buildings  were 
the  once  handsome  courthouse  where  the  Scoggins 
mockery  of  a  "Commissioners  Court"  was  held,  at  $5 
a  day  for  commissioner  and  Marshals,  besides  bribes 
from  the  accused;  and  the  three  story,  tumble-down  jail 
where  I  had  been  locked  for  months  with  murderers 
and  thieves!  It  was  not  pleasant  nor  peaceful  emotion 
they  excited.  There  was  scarcely  a  single  pleasant  mem- 
ory connected  with  the  place.  It  had  been  the  ruin  of 
my  father's  life  for  from  the  day  of  his  settling  there 
until  now,  he  became  buried  from  the  world,  his  learn- 
ing and  talents  misapplied,  because  utterly  unappre- 
ciated, save  by  a  very  few  cultivated  people;  and  his 
usefulness  nullified  by  his  inability  to  suit  himself  to  the 
requirements  of  such  a  situation,  and  surroundings. 

My  own  life,  in  the  place  had  been  as  thoroughly 
wasted  as  if  one  had  burned  a  roll  of  bank  notes,  or  had 
been  asleep  all  the  time. 

Fortunately  there  were  exceptions  to  the  rule,  as  I 
have  already  pointed  out  in  speaking  of  this  region; 
and  there  were  those  whose  friendships  I  shall  evermore 
prize,  and  for  whose  kindness  I  shall  ever  be  grateful. 
Among  these  friends  there  had  been  considerable  talk 
of  giving  me  a  public  reception,  illuminating  the  town, 
ringing  bells,  etc.,  etc.  In  my  letters  home  I  discouraged 
all  such  demonstrations,  "even  if  there  were  any  like- 
lihood of  their  occurrence,"  which  there  was  not,  as  the 
wishes  of  a  few  kind-hearted  ladies  are  not  always  the 
will  of  the  townsmen.  And  I  knew  the  effect  would  be 
disastrous  to  the  hopes  of  the  poor  men  still  at  Albany. 

So,  I  came  home  quietly,  receiving  many  warm  wel- 


The  Shotwell  Papers  451 

comes  from  friends;  and  even  from  the  better  class  of 
Republicans  like  John  McFarland,  John  Eaves,  John 
Allen,  and  others. 

JIM  JUSTICE  SENDS  A  MESSAGE 

A  few  days  after  reaching  home  a  friend  came  to  me 
with  a  verbal  message  from  Jim  Justice  to  the  effect 
that  he  hoped  I  wouldn't  cherish  any  hard  feelings  to- 
ward him;  and  he  would  like  to  speak  to  me  if  I  would 
allow  it.  Old  Mr.  Carrier  told  me  something  to  the  same 
purport,  and  said  Justice  wished  to  shake  hands  with 
me. 

These  messages  and  overtures  gave  me  much  perplex- 
ity. Justice  was  too  low,  in  moral  and  political  char- 
acter for  me  to  recognize  him  (beyond,  perhaps,  a  nod 
in  answer  to  his  salutation)  even  before  the  attempt  to 
ruin  me  through  his  connivance,  and  NOW! 

But,  per  contra,  the  man  had  compelled  me  to  treat 
him  with  at  least  formal  courtesy ;  for  had  he  not  signed 
the  application  for  my  release  when  the  government  de- 
clared his  signature  necessary  or  requisite  to  any  hear- 
ing of  the  case? 

And  did  not  the  fact  that  he  had  signed  without  a 
request  from  me,  and  in  ignorance  as  to  my  future 
course  towards  him  [constitute  an  obligation?]. 

True,  there  were  those,  who  knowing  the  man  and 
his  physical  shipwreck,  which  was  now  almost  equal  to 
that  of  his  moral  degradation,  argued  that  he  foresaw 
I  should  get  out  soon,  and  felt  that  this  was  his  best 
chance  to  disarm  my  resentment.  But  I  prefer  to  think 
he  acted  from  natural,  if  irregular,  generosity  and  com- 
punction of  conscience  at  having  done  so  much  to  de- 
stroy me.  Be  that  as  it  may  he  had  signed,  and  cheer- 
fully, and  had  most  humbly  made  his  advances,  and  I 
must  not  reject  them  else  I  should  show  myself  more 
ungenerous  than  he. 

When,  therefore,  a  day  or  two  later  he  crossed  the 
street,  and  came  up  to  me  with  hand  outstretched  nerv- 
ously, I  gave  him  my  hand,  saying  gravely,  in  answer 
to  his  expressions  of  gratification  at  my  return,  that  I 
was  glad  to  get  back,  but  as  for  "letting  by-gones  be 


452  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

by-gone,"  as  he  requested,  I  should  do  so  only  so  far  as 
a  resort  to  personal  vengeance  was  concerned ;  but  that 
I  felt  a  life-long  duty  had  been  imposed  upon  me  of 
exposing  and  holding  up  to  the  scorn  of  the  world  many 
deeds  of  the  Ku  Klux  Crusade  against  our  people," 

Justice  replied  that  he  was  "very  sorry,"  and  "There 
was  so  much  excitement,  you  know,  a  good  many  things 
was  done  on  both  sides  that  wasn't  right."  I  passed  on, 
and  those  were  the  last  words  I  recollect  of  hearing  from 
the  miserable  creature. 

And  here  I  may  as  well  mention  the  termination  of 
Justice's  career. 

jim  justice's  tragic  death 
For  his  own  name  and  memory  it  had  been  a  fortu- 
nate thing  if  Jim  Justice  had  been  hanged  by  the  Klan. 
He  would  have  been  pitied,  and  his  vile  conduct  over 
looked,  by  even  the  extreme  Southerners;  while  with 
his  own  party  his  fame  would  have  been  that  of  a  "mar- 
tyr to  his  principles,"  and  it  is  very  possible  his  family 
would  have  been  cared  for  by  Congress.  But  he  escaped 
as  if  Providence  meant  to  give  him  a  few  more  years 
for  reformation.  Alas!  his  career  was  ever  downward, 
and  during  his  last  days  it  was  very  rapid. 

Judge  Logan,  having  lost  his  prestige  even  with  his 
own  party,  no  longer  assisted  to  keep  Justice  on  his 
feet.  His  drunkenness  and  vagabondage  grew  more 
marked.  He  had  no  longer  any  influence  even  among 
his  old  associates,  and  his  daily  associates  were  low 
whites  and  negroes.  He  openly  abused  his  wife  on  the 
street.  .  .  .  Finally  he  was  forced  to  leave  the  village 
and  go  to  Hickory  Nut  Gap  to  a  small  farm  owned  by 
Logan.  Justice  drank  and  played  cards  day  and  night, 
until  nearly  killed  in  a  row. 

[Several  pages  of  clippings  follow  in  the  manuscript.] 

TO  WORK  AGAIN 

Mention  has  been  made  more  than  once  in  my  jour- 
nal of  my  fixed  determination  to  get  control  of  a  news- 
paper at  Rutherfordton  or,  if  unable  to  do  so  there,  at 
some  point  nearest  adjacent  thereto,  and  to  devote  my 


The  Shotwell  Papers  453 

life  to  exposing  the  atrocities  which  were  allowed  to  pass 
in  so  little  notice  at  the  time,  owing  to  the  suicidal  pol- 
icy of  the  Democratic  leaders  in  trying  to  hush  up  mat- 
ters lest  they  too  should  become  involved.  Miserable 
policy!  Many  a  poor  man  suffered  imprisonment,  tor- 
ture, and  financial  ruin,  because  there  was  no  deter- 
mined effort  by  prominent  Democrats  (who  had  often 
besought  his  vote,  and  profited  by  it)  to  demand  justice 
for  the  innocent. 

It  needed  but  a  few  days  to  show  me  how  little  could 
be  done  at  Rutherfordton,  as  there  was  no  press,  and 
the  people  were  not  only  poor  and  hard  pressed  to  live, 
but  almost  hopeless.  Father,  of  course,  begged  me  to 
stay  at  home  and  read  law,  but  too  well  I  knew  the 
waste  of  years  that  befalls  a  young  man  who  sits  down 
in  a  small,  back-country  village  to  wait  for  employment 
or  opportunities.  They  never  come,  and  he  becomes 
utterly  unable  to  go  elsewhere  to  seek  them. 

Besides  I  could  not  think  of  remaining  as  an  addi- 
tional burden  to  father. 

Looking  around,  however,  I  saw  no  better  field.  The 
Piedmont  Press,  and  the  Newton  Vindicator,  covered 
all  the  Western  Railway  line,  above  Statesville,  which 
had  its  Intelligencer,  Asheville  had  two  papers,  Shelby 
one,  and  Lincolnton  one.  True,  the  proprietor  of  the 
last  named  paper,  the  "Progress"  wanted  an  editor  and 
had  started  to  the  Depot  to  meet  me,  and  offer  me  the 
position,  but  was  turned  back  by  David  Schenk  of  which 
more  anon. 

One  place  remained;  Shelby:  and  it  was  the  location 
I  preferred  above  all  others,  for  not  only  were  the  peo- 
ple of  the  town  and  county  strongly  Democratic,  and 
Klansmen,  but  the  village  was  the  centre  of  a  large 
wagon  trade  and  traffic  from  all  the  surrounding  re- 
gions including  the  upper  counties  of  South  Carolina 
which  had  been  co-sufferers  with  our  own  people  from 
Grantite  Rule. 

The  Cleveland  Banner  was  still  alive,  and  floated  the 
name  of  Capt  Plato  Durham;  but  he  rarely  wrote  any- 
thing for  it,  and  report  said  was  anxious  to  sell.  Its  cir- 
culation had  become  merely  nominal,  and  I  thought 


454  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

likely  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  my  getting  it.  It 
appears,  however,  he  had  personal  motives  for  keeping 
it  going,  and  keeping  other  papers  away. 

Unaware  of  his  feelings  about  it,  I  wrote  to  several 
gentlemen  of  Shelby  expressing  my  wishes  to  get  a 
paper  there.  All  replied  favorably;  but  Mayor  W.  P. 
Love  interested  himself  so  far  as  to  agree  to  help  me 
raise  the  $700  or  $800  which  I  deemed  indispensable  to 
starting  a  successful  paper.  He  was  about  to  take  a  trip 
to  South  Carolina,  and  would  see  what  the  people 
thought  of  the  project,  "over  the  B order.' ' 

On  his  return  he  wrote  me  he  had  been  assured  on 
all  sides  the  paper  would  secure  thousands  of  subscrib- 
ers ;  and  to  show  the  popular  confidence  therein,  he  had 
already  raised  $400,  to  start  me,  and  could  easily  secure 
the  remainder.  This  was  good  news,  and  I  was  highly 
elated  at  the  prospect  of  going  immediately  at  work. 

Unhappily  all  the  Mayor's  efforts  were  thrown  away. 
For  close  on  the  heels  of  his  letter  came  Capt.  Durham 
on  a  business  trip  to  Rutherford,  and  soon  I  heard  he 
was  worried  about  my  coming  to  Shelby.  I  straightway 
sought  him  out,  and  asked  if  the  report  was  true.  He 
seemed  much  troubled,  and  offish,  but  after  I  assured 
him  I  was  not  ungrateful  for  his  past  kindness,  and 
would  do  all  that  was  right  and  honorable  to  oblige  him, 
he  replied  that  he  had  strong  reasons  for  wishing  I 
would  not  settle  in  Shelby,  at  least  not  for  six  months, 
or  so,  as  my  paper  would,  of  course,  utterly  ruin  the 
Banner,  which  was  a  very  small,  badly  printed  sheet. 
Nor  was  this  all.  He  had  another  serious  objection  to 
my  settling  in  Shelby.  He  had  been  obliged  to  work 
very  hard,  and  make  great  concessions  to  get  myself 
and  others  (with  himself)  out  of  the  clutches  of  the 
Grantites,  and  if  I  were  to  come  to  his  own  town,  and 
start  a  red  hot  Democratic  paper,  denouncing  the  Radi- 
cals, etc.,  it  would  be  alleged  he  had  been  instrumental 
in  setting  me  up  and  the  result  might  be  serious  to  him, 
etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

If  I  would  go  somewhere  else  for  six  months,  all 
would  blow  over,  and  he  would  then  be  glad  to  have  me 
take  the  Banner.  I  felt  both  surprised,  and  saddened  by 


The  Shotwell  Papers  455 

this  conversation  but  assured  him  I  should  at  once  give 
up  all  my  plans  and  write  to  Mayor  Love  not  to  pro- 
ceed farther  in  the  matter. 

And  this  closed  all  the  circle  within  which  I  hoped  to 
have  settled. 

I  had  no  means  of  my  own,  and  though  every  friend 
expressed  the  wish  to  see  me  get  a  comfortable  position, 
wishes  do  not  help,  nor  buy  meat  and  bread,  nor  give  a 
man  a  chance. 

Nothing  remained  but  to  abandon,  for  a  time,  and 
probably  forever,  the  hopes  I  had  fostered  during  the 
long  days  of  my  toil  at  the  shoe-bench ;  and  go  to  Char- 
lotte. Accordingly  I  wrote  Genl.  Hill,  and  subsequently 
met  him  at  Shelby  Court  where  we  arranged  for  me  to 
enter  upon  my  duties  as  assistant  editor  of  the  Southern 
Home,  Oct.  13,  1873. 

The  salary  was  small,  the  position  secondary,  and  un- 
influential,  for  of  course  as  Gen.  Hill  was  editor  and 
proprietor  he  would  control  the  course  of  the  paper 
(not  making  me  write  as  I  disapproved,  but  excluding 
matter  of  mine  which  he  disapproved;  if  he  wished) ; 
still  it  was  a  support,  and  an  honorable  business,  and 
the  prospects  of  Charlotte  were  brighter  than  almost 
any  other  town  in  North  Carolina  at  that  time.  And 
Genl.  Hill's  political  and  general  views  were  more  nearly 
my  own  that  almost  any  other  paper,  as  the  Home  had 
a  reputation  for  outspokenness. 

ADIEUX  TO   RUTHERFORDTON 

Although  the  scene  of  much  suffering  and  humiliation 
to  me  though  seemingly  covered  with  the  deadly  blight 
of  Loganism  and  Grantism,  making  the  whole  region 
seem  blighted  like  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
Rutherford  had  been  my  abiding-place  for  several  years, 
had  been  the  home  of  my  father  for  nearly  sixteen  years, 
was  the  resting-place  of  my  martyred  brother  Hamil- 
ton, and  I  had  still  within  the  boundaries  many  warm 
and  faithful  friends,  such  as  few  men  gain  in  this  life. 

Therefore  it  was  with  unfeigned  reluctance  I  made 
my  decision  to  settle  in  Charlotte,  and  leave  Rutherford. 

My  friends  appeared  sorry  of  my  going,  and  for  the 


456  The  North  Carolina  Historical  Commission 

last  fortnight  I  was  almost  constantly  visiting  them  at 
their  homes,  receiving  hearty  welcomes  from  all. 

Promptly  to  my  agreement  I  arrived  in  Charlotte, 
and  entered  upon  my  duties;  my  first  article  being  de- 
voted to  a  sketch  of  the  outrageous  treatment  of  Cap- 
tain Oscar  Berry.  Genl.  Hill  wished  to  introduce  me 
with  a  somewhat  exaggerated  resume  of  my  past  record, 
but  I  chanced  to  see  a  'proof  of  the  article,  and  begged 
him  to  suppress  it,  as  I  wished  to  go  quietly  to  work. 

The  Charlotte  papers  gave  me  cordial  welcome.  The 
people,  also,  made  me  welcome  giving  me  frequent  in- 
vitations to  dine,  or  take  tea,  with  them,  though  as  usual 
I  managed  to  be  always  busy  or  pre-engaged  on  such 
occasions. 

Now  and  then  I  met  a  Job's  comforter  whose  ears  I 
decidedly  desired  to  pull.  It  was  not  pleasant  to  be  pa- 
tronized, in  such  style  as  this:  "Now  Shotwell  come  and 
see  us!  Don't  feel  in  the  least  backward.  Don't  worry 
about  the  Penitentiary  business :  What  if  you  were  con- 
victed: everybody  knows  all  about  it,  and  they  don't 
look  down  on  you  at  all,"  etc.,  etc.  What  could  I  answer 
to  a  speech  like  this  evidently  dictated  by  real  friendli- 
ness, but  so  shockingly  deficient  in  tact,  or  delicacy  or 
consideration  that  I  could  have  returned  a  blow  to  the 
invitation ! 

In  other  cases  these  ill-bred  persons  went  so  far  as  to 
assume  that  I  felt  some  humiliation  (!)  by  saying  as 
follows:  "Captain  why  in  the  world  don't  you  stir  about 
more!  There  aint  no  use  of  your  feelin'  down-hearted 
about  that  Ku  Klux  affair.  All  o'  us  wuz  Ku  Kluxes, 
and  so  far  as  I'm  concerned  I  ruther  think  better  of 
you  now  than  I  did  afore!"  Bah!  'Tis  sickening  to  think 
of!  A  woman  would  never  be  guilty  of  such  want  of 
thought,  delicacy,  tact,  and  sensibility. 

Usually  I  replied  quietly  that  I  had  done  as  I  believed 
to  be  my  duty  in  the  past,  and  should  continue  to  do; 
but  occasionally  I  lost  temper  and  exclaimed  that  any 
man  who  fancied  I  felt  ashamed  of  the  life  at  Albany 
was  not  only  a  fool,  but  ungrateful:  for  I  had  suffered 
for  my  principles,  and  not  from  any  personal  cause  or 


The  Shotwell  Papers  457 

purpose!  Even  had  I  led  the  raid  on  Justice  I  should 
not  have  done  so  from  any  personal  object  or  motive. 
What  had  I  to  gain?  What  could  the  Klan  do  for  me? 
Bah!  Get  behind  me!  I  want  none  of  Job's  comforting. 
I  appreciate  sympathy,  and  rejoice  to  have  it  from  good 
people  who  believe  me  wronged  for  my  principle's  sake, 
but  I  want  no  pity,  nor  any  sympathy  which  is  not  based 
on  thorough  recognition  of  the  foul  wrong  done  to  me. 


THE  END1 


1  There  is  more  of  the  Shotwell  manuscript  dealing  with  conditions  in  North 
Carolina  in  the  1870's  and  1880's,  but,  written  long  after  the  recorded  events  had 
taken  place,  it  is  less  valuable  than  that  published  in  the  three  volumes  of  Shotwell 
Papers.  The  unprinted  material  is  easily  accessible  in  the  archives  of  the  North 
Carolina  Historical  Commission,  Raleigh. 


KU  KLUX  IN  ALBAIS 


Name 


Post   Office 


Supposed     occupation    Where  tried 


40.  H.  H.  Sherer 

26, 

41.  S.   H.  Sherer 

23, 

42.  H.  C.  Warlick 

22, 

43.  E.  J.  Murphy 

38, 

44.  R.  H.  Mitchell 

42, 

45.  E.  A.  Hays 

40, 

46.  Walker  Dawson 

Antioch 

23, 

Farmer. 

47.  Gal.  Hambright 

<( 

42, 

Laborer. 

48.  Elijah  Hardin 

it 

27, 

tt                                      it 

49.  W.  M.  Fulton 

a 

tt                                      tt 

50.  Felix  Dover 

n 

tt                                      tt 

51.  Jas  A.  Donald 

Hopewell 

tt                                      tt 

52.  W.  L.  Hood 

Bullocks  Creek 

29, 

Clerk 

53.  D.   S.   Ramseur 

Shelby,  N.  C. 

(<                     tt 

54.  W.  P.  Anthony 

<( 

Laborer. 

55.  Miles  McCullock 

Hopewell 

25, 

tt                    tt 

56.  Chas  Tate 

Carpenters  Store,  N.  C. 

tt                    tt 

57.  Jno  Whitlock 

Jonesville,   S.   C. 

tt                    tt 

58.  Jas.  Sanders 

Chester,   S.   C. 

tt                    tt 

59.  J.  H.  Lackey 

Kings  Mountain,  N.  C. 

tt                    tt 

60.  Wm.   Ramsay 

Draytonville,  S.  C. 

tt                    <t 

61.  J.  N.  Harwood, 

Browns  Store,  Union,  S.  C 

it                    tt 

62.  H.  C.  Mathias 

tt            tt            tt            a 

tt                    tt 

63.  A.  C.  LeMasters 

<<            (<            <t            tt 

29, 

n                    tt 

64.  Alex   Bridges 

tt            a            tt            tt 

65.  Wm.  Lowry 

Guthriesville,  S.  C. 

it                    tt 

66.  Jno  Wallace 

67.  H.  M.  More 

Blacks  Station,  S.  C. 

68.  Benj.   Strickland 

Spartanburg 

69.                Fowler 

Skull  Shouls,  Union  Co.,  S. 

C. 

Alabamians 

70.  R.  G.  Young 

Youngsville 

71.  J.  D.  Young 

tt 

72.   Ringold   Young 

n 

73.  R.  S.  Gray 

a 

74.  Jas.  Blants 

a 

75.  Chas.   Howard 

Davistown 

76.  G.  W.  Boyce 

77.   Neal    Hawkins 

Bluff  Springs 

78.  S.   M.   Moore 

Elkmont 

79.  G.  W.  Peace 

Athens 

80. 

81. 

82. 

APPENDIX 
KIT  KLUX  IN  ALBANY  PENITENTIARY 


1.  R.  A.  Shotwell 

2.  Amos  Owens 

3.  A.  DePriest 

4.  J.   W.   McEntire 

5.  Wm.  Teal 

6.  G.  W.  Holland 

7.  David  Collins 

8.  Wm.  Scruggs 

9.  Zack  Cantrell 

10.  Aaron  Ezell 

11.  Jno.  Moore 

12.  Jonas  Vassy 

13.  Elias  Burnett 

14.  S.  D.  Splawn 

15.  Rev.  J.  S.  Ezell 

16.  S.  G.  Brown 

17.  M.  S.  Carroll 

18.  Stewart 

19.  Josiah   Martin 

20.  Jos.  C.  Robinsn 

21.  Wm.  Smith 

22.  Pinckney  Caldwell 

23.  Leander  Spencer 

24.  Geo.   S.  Wright 

25.  Robt.   Riggins 

26.  T.   B.   Whitesides 

27.  W.  C.  Whitesides 

28.  Capt.  J.  W.  Mitchell 

29.  Hezekiah  Porter 

30.  Jno  Montgomery 

31.  S.  Childers 

32.  Julius  Howe 

33.  Jno  Whisonant 

34.  Jerome   Whisonant 

35.  Robt.    Moore 

36.  Walker  More 

37.  Jos   Lickie 

38.  W.  B.  Sherer 

39.  J.  M.  Sherer 


Rutherfordton,    N.    C. 
Oak   Springs,   N.  C. 

Camp  Call 


Moresboro 
Cowpens,  S.  C. 


Spartanburg 
Yorkville 

Clarks    Fork 

Blainsville 
Hickorv  Grove 


Harmony 
Blairsville 


pposcri 
age 

Occupation 

Where    tried 

28, 

Editor. 

Raleigh, 

52, 

Farmer. 

20, 

22, 

26, 

" 

26, 

" 

65, 

Miller. 

" 

49, 

Farmer. 

-■ 

66, 

Columbia, 

48, 

26, 

" 

28, 

64, 

•• 

•' 

62, 

Clergyman. 

61, 

Farmer. 

25, 

22, 

" 

23, 

Laborer. 

25, 

27, 

» 

» 

28, 

" 

" 

23, 

27, 

" 

34, 

Physiciar 

" 

28, 

Farmer. 

" 

45, 

" 

21, 

Laborer 

" 

20, 

" 

30, 

« 

" 

30, 

Farmer 

•• 

24, 

" 

22, 

Laborer. 

.. 

32, 

" 

32, 

•• 

28, 

" 

" 

Sept   22nd   1871.     6  years 
6  yrs. 
2      " 
2      " 


Dec   26, 


Dec  3, 
Dec  26, 


3     " 

1     yr 


18  Mos. 
1     yr 


73.      5    yrs. 

71.      5    yrs. 
18   Mos. 
18  Mos. 
18      " 
18      " 
10      " 


3    yrs. 

Dec   26,        1871.      18  Mos. 
"       3,  72. 


26, 


3rd 


71.      5    yrs. 
18  Mos. 


June 
Dec  26, 


72.     3     " 

8     yrs. 
71. 

18  Mos. 


$5000      Aug.  25,  1873.  Pardoned. 
5000 
500      Served  his  term.  Was  not  on  Justice  Raid. 
"         Pardoned  July  5th,  73 — Would  have  been 

released  in  15  days. 
"  Pardoned   Nov.   25,   72 — died  on  his  way 

home. 
500      Servd  his  term.  Not  on  Justice  Raid. 
"         Pardnd    Jan    9th,    73.   Was    not   in   least 
guilty. 
Pardond  Aug.  25th,  73. 
Servd  term. 

Servd  term. 

Servd  term. 

Pardnd   Feb.    17,  73. 

Pardoned  Aug.  15th,  1873. 

Pardnd. 


$1000 
100 


1000 


Pardnd.   Mar.   19,  '73. 

Feb.  17,  '73. 
Servd  term. 
Pardond  Mar.  29,  '73. 


Pardnd.   Feb.   5th,   '73. 

100      Servd  term. 

1000 
100      Died  July  12,  '72. 

Pardond  Mar.  31,  '73.  Only  had  2  months 

to  serve. 
Pardond  Mar.  31,  '73.  Only  had  2  months 
to  serve. 


Pardnd.  Feb.   14,  '73. 


KU  KLUX  IN  ALBANY  PENITENTIARY 


40.  H.  H.  Sherer 

41.  S.   H.   Sherer 

42.  H.  C.  Warlick 

43.  E.  J.  Murphy 

44.  R.  H.  Mitchell 

45.  E.  A.   Hays 

46.  Walker  Dawson 

47.  Gal.  Hambright 

48.  Elijah  Hardin 

49.  W.   M.   Fulton 

50.  Felix  Dover 

51.  Jas  A.  Donald 

52.  W.  L.  Hood 

53.  D.   S.    Ramseur 

54.  W.   P.  Anthony 

55.  Miles  McCullock 

56.  Chas  Tate 

57.  Jno  Whitlock 

58.  Jas.  Sanders 

59.  J.  H.  Lackey 

60.  Wm.   Ramsay 

61.  J.  N.  Harwood, 

62.  H.  C.  Mathias 

63.  A.  C.   LeMasters 

64.  Alex   Bridges 

65.  Wm.   Lowry 

66.  Jno  Wallace 

67.  H.  M.  More 

68.  Benj.   Strickland 

69.  Fowler 
Alabamians 

70.  R.  G.   Young 

71.  J.  D.  Young 

72.  Ringold   Young 

73.  R.  S.  Gray 

74.  Jas.  Blants 

75.  Chas.   Howard 

76.  G.  W.  Boyce 

77.  Neal    Hawkins 

78.  S.  M.   Moore 

79.  G.  W.  Peace 
80. 

81. 
82. 


Antioch 


Hopewell 
Bullocks  Creek 
Shelby,  N.  C. 

Hopewell 

Carpenters  Store,  N.  C. 

Jonesville,   S.    C. 

Chester,   S.   C. 

Kings  Mountain,  N.  C. 

Draytonville,  S.  C. 

Browns  Store,  Union,  S.  C. 


26, 

23, 

22, 

38, 

42, 

40, 

23, 

Farmer. 

42, 

Laborer 

27, 

" 

25, 


29, 


Guthriesville,  S.  C. 

Blacks  Station,  S.  C. 

Spartanburg 

Skull  Shouls,  Union  Co.,  S.  C. 

Youngsville 


Davistown 

Bluff   Springs 

Elkmont 

Athens 


Clerk 


Laborer. 


June 
June 


Dec  3, 

June 
Dec   3d 

June 


June 
Dec.  3rd 


" 

Sentence 

Remarks 

Mar.   19,  '73. 
Servd    term. 
Pardnd.  Feb.   17,  '73. 

April  17,  " 

72. 

8 

yrs. 

1000 

72. 

18 

Mos. 

100 

Pardd.  Jan.  '73. 

4 

yrs. 

100 

Pardoned  Aug.  22nd,  1873. 
Pardoned  Aug.  15,  '73. 


8     yrs.  1000  Pardd. 

8       "  1000  Pard.  April   17,   1873. 

18   Mos.  100  Pard.  Mar.   19,  '73. 

72.      18   Mos.  100  Servd  term. 


18  Mos.  100      Pard.  Mar.  19,  '73. 


'72. 
'72. 


'72. 

8    yrs. 

3     " 
'72.     1     year 

72. 


Servd  term. 
Pard.  Feb.  17,  73. 


Servd   term. 


10    years 

7 
10 


[Torn] 


[Y  PENITENTIARY 


Sentence 


Remarks 


June 

72. 

8    yrs. 

June 

72. 

18   Mos 
4    yrs. 

Mar.   19,  '73. 
Servd    term. 
Pardnd.  Feb.  17,  '73. 
April  17,  " 
1000 
100      Pardd.  Jan.  '73. 
100 

Pardoned  Aug.  22nd,  1873. 
Pardoned  Aug.  15,  '73. 


8 
8 

yrs. 

18 

Mos. 

Dec  3, 

72. 

18 

Mos. 

18 

Mos. 

June 

'72. 

Dec   3d 

'72. 

it 

(t 

June 

'72. 

8 
3 

yrs. 
it 

June 
Dec.  3rd 

'72. 
72. 

1 

year 

1000  Pardd. 

1000  Pard.  April   17,  1873. 

100  Pard.  Mar.   19,  '73. 

100  Servd  term. 

100  Pard.  Mar.  19,  '73. 


Servd  term. 
Pard.  Feb.  17,  73. 


Servd  term. 


10    years 

tt 

7 
10 


[Torn] 


INDEX 


Albany  Penitentiary,  described,  111-18; 
conditions  in,  239-40;  record  of  the 
Pilsburys,  323;  rules  of,  118-19, 
123-33,  135-54,  159-73,  319-20; 
shoe  factory,  147-59,  161-65;  Colo- 
nel Whitley's  report  on,  250-53. 

Akerman,  Amos  T.,  39,  76,  187-88, 
289,  336. 

Allen,  John  M.,  5. 

Andrews,  Alexander  B.,  444-45. 

Anthony,  W.  P.,  225,  Appendix. 

Arnold,  George  M.,  306. 

Atkinson,  Rev.  J.  M.,  62. 

Atkinson,  Rt.  Rev.  Thomas,  62. 

Avery,  Alphonso  C,  19,  184. 

Avery,  E.  T.,  372-73. 

Avery,  Willoughby  F.,  22. 


B 


Bailey,  John,  94,  119. 

Barringer,  Victor  C,  236. 

Beall,  J.  Y.,  360. 

Beard,  W.,  12-14. 

Belknap,  William  H.,  396. 

Bencini,  M.  A.,  442. 

Bergen,  George  T.,  69. 

Berry,  Oscar,  456. 

Berry,  Samuel  O.,  391-98,  400. 

Biggerstaff,  Aaron  V.,  9,  33-34,  320- 

21. 
Biggerstaff,  Barton,  320-21,  428. 
Blacknall,  George  W.,  27,  66,  445. 
Blanks,  James,  232,  332,  Appendix. 
Bond,  Hugh  L.,   39,  41,  46,  50,   55, 

60,  62,  72,  76,  80-81,  94,   176-77, 

229,  300,  326-29,  382,  384-85,  423, 

444-45. 
Bosher,  R.  T.,  42,  44. 
Boutwell,  George  S.,  244. 

Bowen,  ,   385,   389. 

Boyce,  G.  W.,  Appendix. 
Boyden,  Archibald  H.,  22,  236. 
Bragg,  Thomas,  38,  53,  80,  180,  201- 

2,  307. 
Bratton,  Rufus,  227. 
Bridgers,  Alexander,  Appendix. 
Brooks,  George  W.,  7,   12-15,  19-20, 

39,  50-51,  53,  60,  76,  337. 
Brown,    Samuel    G.,    200,    235,    246, 

248-49,  266,  282,  310,  325-30,  336, 

349-50,    365-66,    388,    395,    401-3, 

406,   408,   416-17,   420,   429,   432, 

436,  438,  Appendix. 
Brown,  Mrs.  Samuel  G.,  447. 

Bryan,  Colonel ,  225. 

Buford,  H.  A.,  445. 
Burnett,  Carter,  225. 
Burnett,  Elias,  Appendix. 

Burwell,  Dr. ,  28. 

Busteed,  Richard,  309,  350. 
Bynum,  William  P.,  47. 


Caldwell,  Pinckney,  Appendix. 
Caldwell,  Tod  R.,  32-34,  38,  42,  50, 

71,    74,    176,    197,    225,    247,    305, 

335,  358-59,  447. 
Calicott,  T.  C,  374-75,  426,  435. 

Callahan,  ,  2,  20. 

Cameron,  Francis,   180. 

Camp,  Mrs.  ,  199. 

Campbell,  Thomas  J.,  34. 
Cantrell,  Zack,  Appendix. 
Carpenter,  J.  B.,  5,  31,  71,  231. 
Carroll,  M.  S.,   347,  Appendix. 
Carrow,  Samuel  T.,  10,  15-18,  41,  42, 

44,  47,  55,  79-81,  88,  94,  335,  354. 
Carson,    Joseph    L.,    8-9,    38,    70-71, 

278,  358. 
Carter,  David  M.,  446. 

Chapman,  Mrs.  ,  271. 

Chapman,  R.  H.,  446. 
Chichester,   Colonel  ,   231. 


Childern,  S.,  350,  Appendix. 

Churchill,  B.  F.,  71. 

Clark,  Mrs.  ,  195. 

Clayton,  G.  W.,  442. 

Clayton,  Powell,  394,  396. 

Clingman,  Thomas  L.,  236. 

Cobb,  Clinton  L.,  98-103,  180,  264, 
350. 

Collins,  David,  40,  56,  59,  82,  88, 
105-6,  109,  151,  235,  248-49,  254- 
55,  266,   299-300,  Appendix. 

Cooley,  John,  2. 

Cowper,  Pulaski,  446. 

Cox,  William  R.,  446. 

Coyle,  William,  392. 

Crawford,  S.  O.,  395-96. 

Crow,  Clinton  C,  28. 

Curtis,  F.  C,  219- 

D 

Davis,  Jeff.  C,  392. 

Dawson,  C.  G.,  256. 

Dawson,  Walker,  256,  Appendix. 

Deaver,  ,  63,  78. 

DePriest,  Adolphus,  40,  57,  88,   105, 

235,   366,  413-14,  Appendix. 
Dickson,  Harris,  238n. 
Donald,  James  A.,  297,  Appendix. 

Dover, ,  419,  423,  Appendix. 

Dowell,  A.  H.,  67-70. 

Downey,  Jeff.,  82. 

Durham,  Plato,  19,  36,  38,  44,  60,  66, 

71,   73-78,    102,    180,    184-85,    197, 

234,  357-58,  365,  378-79,  427,  449- 

50,  453-54. 
Dwight,  William,   342,   362. 
Dwight,  Mrs.  William,  407. 


Eaves,  John,  451. 

Edgerton,  William  G.,  2,  6,   17,  22, 
211. 


462 


Index 


-,  63. 


Elias,  — 

Erwin,  James,  442. 

Erwin,  Marcus,  38-39,  76,  97-98,  359. 

Evans,  General  N.  G.,  245. 

Ezell,  Aaron,  Appendix. 

Ezell,  Rev.  John  S.,  296-97,  366,  375, 

382-84,  Appendix. 
Ezell,  Landrum,  382. 


Falls,  J.  Z.,  32. 

Farris,  C.  M.,  75. 

Foote,  James  H.,  22. 

Forney,  Miss  Mary,  228. 

Fortune,  D.  B.,  40,  57. 

Fowle,  Daniel  G.,  38,  46,  53,  80,  307, 

314. 

Fowler, ,  Appendix. 

Fowler,  Marion,  297. 

Fuller,  Thomas  C,  38,  48-49,  53-54, 

307,  314,  337. 
Fulton,  W.  M.,  426-27,  Appendix. 
Furgeson,  Champ,   360. 


Gaither,  Burgess  S.,  19,  38,  358. 

Gash,  Thomas,  442. 

Gilkey,  Mrs.  ,  20. 

Gilmer,  James,  306. 

Graham,  William  A.,  314. 

Grant,  Ulysses  S.,  69,  101,  176-77, 
234,  237,  243,  246-48,  260-61,  274- 
78,  299,  310,  331,  337-38,  346, 
353,  357-58,  365-66,  382-83,  391, 
399,  402,  417,  421,  423-24,  427, 
431. 

Gray,  Richard  S.,  232,  350,  Appendix. 

Greeley,  Horace,  235,  243,  260-63, 
276. 

Green,  T.  Jefferson,  294-95. 

Guion,  Benjamin  S.,  448. 

Guthrie,  J.  J.,  394. 

H 

Halliburton,  Mrs. ,  20. 

Hambright,  Gal.,  225,  Appendix. 

Hamlin,  I.  J.,  391. 

Hanes,  Lewis,  287. 

Hardin,  Elijah,  225,  Appendix. 

Harper,  James  C,  227,  305,  311-14, 

337. 
Harrell,  John,  210. 
Harris,  Anderson,  225. 
Harris,  Cebern  L.,  5,  25. 
Harris,  James  H.,  236. 
Harris,  J.  C.  L.,  25,  90. 
Harwood,  J.  N.,  Appendix. 
Haskins,  H.  R.,  286-87. 
Hayes,  Alison,  225. 
Hays,  E.  A.,  Appendix. 
Haywood,  Mrs.  ,  28. 


Hearne,  William  A.,  64-65,  70. 

Hester,  Joseph  G.,  69,  227. 

Hill,  General  Daniel  H.,  32,  74,  281, 
435-36,  447-48,  455-56. 

Hillard,  C.  H.,  346. 

Hodge,  L.  L.,  283. 

Hodges,  ,  2,  20. 

Holden,  William  W.,  47,  236,  264, 
358. 

Holland,  George  H.,  40,  57,  105,  366, 
413-14,  Appendix. 

Holt,  Joseph,  425. 

Hood,  W.  L.,  376,  Appendix. 

Howard,  Charles  N.,  232,  332,  Ap- 
pendix. 

Howe,  Julius,  225,  Appendix. 

Hoy,  Pat.,  368. 

Hubbs,  E.,  115. 

Hudson,  Horace  R.,  426,  435,  438. 

Huffmaster,  ,  20. 

Huntington,  Rt.  Rev.,  F.  D.,  118. 

Hunton,  Eppa,  314. 


Jackson,  General  Thomas  J.,  346. 

Jarrell,  Manliff,  40. 

Johnson,  Bart  S.,  441-42. 

Johnson,  Reverdy,  20,  295. 

Jolly,  Leander,  300. 

Jones,  George,  445. 

Jones,  Hamilton  Co.,   102,   180,   184. 

Jones,  Johnston,  271. 

Josephs,  Theo.,  94. 

Justice,  James  M.,  30,  38-39,  42,  50, 

72,  231,    321,    335,    357-59,    427, 
451-52. 

Justice,  John,  448. 
Justice,  M.  H.,  279. 

K 

Kendall,  Amos  T.,  333. 
Kerr,  Mrs.  W.  C,  28. 
Kershaw,  J.  B.,  417,  424,  447. 
Kingsbury,  Theodore  B.,  95-97,  445. 
Ku    Klux    prisoners,    40-59,    326-28, 
332-33,   347-48,   350-51,   361,   372- 

73,  381-83,  423-24. 


Lackey,  J.  H.,  Appendix. 

Lacy,  Rev.  Drudy,  28,  64. 

Larkins,  ,  12-14. 

Lee,  Major ,  184. 

Lee,  General  Robert  E.,  346. 

Lee,  Tim.,  25,  79,  82,  93. 

Lee,  Mrs.  Tim.,  90. 

Le  Masters,  A.  C,  296,  Appendix. 

Leventhrope,  General  Colin,  191, 
208,  229,  244,  301-2,  304-5,  311- 
12,  334-36,  352-53,  357-58,  370-72, 
378-79,  421. 

Lickie,  Joseph,  225,  Appendix. 


Index 


463 


Lincoln,   President  Abraham,   346. 
Littlefield,  General  Milton  S.,  67. 
Logan,  George  W.,  25,  33,  90,   190, 

197,  231,  305,  423,  452. 
Logan,  Robert,  7,  231. 
Love,  W.  P.,  454. 

Lowry,  William,  225,  318,  Appendix. 
Lusk,  Virgil  S.,  38,  42,  48,  50,  254, 

354,  357-59,  427. 

M 

McAfee,  Lee  M.,  102,  180,  184-85. 

McArthur, ,  2. 

McBee,  Vardry,  448. 

McClellan,  General  George  B.,  346. 

McCullock,  Miles,  225,  347,  Appen- 
dix. 

McEwan,  John  S.,  86-88,  91-93,  98, 
101-4,  108,  111,  133-34,  173,  176- 
82,  184-88,  196,  264,  360-61. 

McFarland,  John,  451. 

Macintosh,  Sir  James,  47. 

Mclntyre,  J.  W.,  57,  79,  Appendix. 

Mclntyre,  William,  40. 

Mclntyre,  W.  T.,  278. 

McKee,  James,  25. 

McKesson,  W.  F.,  22. 

Maguire,  ,  62,  64,  79,  86. 

Malone,  ,  19. 

Mallon,  George  B.,  238n. 

Manly,  Matthias,   441-43. 

Mann,  Horace,  257-58. 

Manning,  H.  E.  T.,  97-98. 

Marion  jail,  3-21. 

Martin,  Josiah,  Appendix. 

Masters,  H.  C,  296. 

Mathias,  H.  C,  Appendix. 

Meares,  William  B.,  223. 

Merrimon,  Augustus  S.,  268,  312, 
358,  379. 

Miller,  Miss  Hattie,  195. 

Mitchell,  Hays,  200,  295,  318. 

Mitchell,  J.  W.,  20,  376,  Appendix. 

Mitchell,   Luico,    12-13. 

Mitchell,  R.  H.,  Appendix. 

Montgomery,  John,  350,  Appendix. 

Mooney,  ,  231. 

Moore,  H.  M.,   380,  Appendix. 

Moore,  John,  Appendix. 

Moore,  Robert,  297,  Appendix. 

Moore,  S.  K.,  40. 

Moore,  S.  M.,  Appendix. 

Moore,  Spencer  R.,  57. 

Moore,  Walker,  225,  Appendix. 

Moses,  Franklin  J.,  417. 

Mudd,  S.  A.,  360. 

Murphy,  E.  J.,  419,  Appendix. 

Myers,  Louis,  4 14. 

N 

Neagle,  J.,  416-17. 

Neal,  Mrs.  Margaret,  19,  62. 


O 


Ottz,  J.  D.,  402. 

Owens,  Amos,  40,  56,  254,  425,  Ap- 
pendix. 


Padgett,  Isaac,  2,  5,  78-79. 

Palmer,   General  John  M.,   293-94. 

Peace,  G.  W.,  Appendix. 

Phillips,  Samuel  F.,  38-39,  41,  47-48, 
63-64,  76,  176,  305,  312,  358. 

Pilsbury,  General  Amos  T.,  143-44, 
149-51,  166-67,  175-76,  179-80, 
190,  194,  203,  213,  221-24,  258-60, 
264-65,  273-77,  282-84,  294,  308-9, 
314-15,  317,  345,  359,  395,  403-4, 
409. 

Pilsbury,  Louis  D.,  152,  166,  168, 
173,  176,  181,  187,  196,  212,  229, 
231-32,  234,  236,  238,  244-49,  251, 
262,  266-67,  282,  286,  289-90,  308, 
315,  320,  322-23,  331,  341,  361, 
364-65,  373-78,  382,  390,  412-15, 
419,  426,  430-33,  436-37. 

Pilsbury,  Mrs.  Louis  D.,  378,  436-37. 

Pollock,  Governor  James,  380. 

Pool,  John,  67,  358. 

Pool,  Stephen  D.,  67,  447. 

Porter,  Hezekiah,  248,  Appendix. 

Porter,  W.  D.,  417,  424. 

Prentice,  George  D.,  394. 


Quinan,  William  R.,  21-22. 
Quint,  Alonzo,  215-17. 

R 

Raleigh  jail,  23-91. 
Ramsay,  William,  225,  Appendix. 
Ramseur,  D.  S.,  225,  Appendix. 
Ransom,  Matt  W.,  71,  102,  268,  305, 

311,  314,  334,  337,  446. 
Riggins,   Robert,   225,  Appendix. 
Robinson,  Joseph  C,  225,  Appendix. 
Rogers,  Sion  H.,  446. 
Rollins,  Berry,   31,   34. 
Rousseau,   General   Lovell,   394. 


Saunders,  James,  225,  347,  Appendix. 
Schenck,  David,  71,  102,  180,  184-85, 

448,  453. 

Schneider,  Rev.  D., ,   377,  407. 

Schneider,  Mrs.  ,  267,  290-91, 

341-42,  362,  377-78,  389,  407,  421. 
Scoggins,    Andrew,    2,    6,    9,    11,    55, 

379. 
Scoggins,  James,  2-3,  5. 


464 


Index 


Scoggins,  Joseph,  2,  5. 

Scoggins,  Nathan,   379- 

Scoggins,  William,  2,  5. 

Scripture,   ,    126-28,    137,   406- 

8,  411,  413,  434,  438. 

Scruggs,  William,  40,  57,  59,  105, 
235,  254-55,  266,  297-98,  318,  347, 
366,  419-21,  427,  432,  434,  Ap- 
pendix. 

Settle,  Thomas,  236. 

Sheehan,  ,  9. 

Sherer,  H.  H.,  Appendix. 

Sherer,  J.  M.,  Appendix. 

Sherer,  S.  H.,  Appendix. 

Sherer,  W.  B.,  Appendix. 

Shotwell,  Alexander  H.,  202,  340. 

Shotwell,  Mrs.  Alexander  H.,  278, 
359. 

Shotwell,  Frederick  A.,  2-3,  10,  19, 
25,  40-41,  43,  61-63,  78,  342,  347, 
373,  450. 

Shotwell,  McCleary,  313-14,  362. 

Shotwell,  Melancthon  S.,  198-99,  209- 
10,  224-25,  267,  279,  288,  298-300, 
342,  359,  370,  380,  421-22,  429, 
439-40. 

Shotwell,  Rev.  Nathan,  4,  6,  11,  19, 
84,  208,  212,  219,  262,  296,  298, 
300,  306-7,  313-14,  337,  362,  379, 
440. 

Shotwell,    Randolph    A.,    in    jail    in 
Rutherfordton,  1-2 ;  removed  to  Ma- 
rion,   3-9;    in    Marion    jail,    9-21; 
writ  of  habeas  corpus  sued  out,  19; 
denied,    20;    removed    to    Raleigh, 
21-23;    in    jail    in    Raleigh,    23-91; 
trial    of,    37-40;    convicted,    40-41; 
sentenced,   44-45 ;   opinion  of  Sam- 
uel W.   Carrow,  41-42,   46-47,   79- 
81;  bitter  reflections,  56-64;  offered 
pardon  on  shameful  conditions,  71- 
72 ;    refuses,    72 ;    treated   badly   by 
friends,    71-76;    gratitude    to    Plato 
Durham,    73-77;    removed    to    Al- 
bany   Penitentiary,     86-110;     again 
offered  pardon  on  same  conditions 
and   refused,    98-102;    bitter   reflec 
tions,  103-4;  on  use  of  liquor,  108 
9;   arrives   at  Albany,    111-12;   im 
pressions    of    Albany    Penitentiary 
112-20;  admitted  to  prison,  120-21 
humiliating      experiences,       122-24 
130-31;  first  Sunday  in  prison,  135 
47 ;     describes     religious     services 
139-40;   begins   work   in   shoe   fac 
tory,      147-48,      152-59;     interview 
with      General     Pilsbury,      149-51 
compares  convicts  with  slaves,   151 
52;  difficulties  as  a  shoemaker,  154 
59,     161-65;     resolutions,     159-61 
discomfort,    170-74;    again    offered 
pardon  on  same  conditions,  168-87 


interviews  with  Lieutenant  Mc- 
Ewan,  175-81,  184-87;  considers 
deceiving  McEwan,  186-88 ;  writes 
Attorney  General  Akerman,  188 ; 
letters,  189-90;  discomforts,  190; 
reflects  on  his  recent  birthdays,  191- 
93;  Christmas  in  prison,  193-94; 
discomfort,  194;  agrees  to  teach, 
194-95;  a  box  from  home,  195-96; 
letters,  196-97;  angered  at  newspa- 
per notices,  196-98;  another  box 
from  home,  199;  tribute  to  Gov- 
ernor Thomas  Bragg,  201-2;  re- 
flections on  North  and  South,  203- 
4;  pleased  at  newspaper  notices, 
204-5 ;  elected  to  the  Philologian 
Society,  204-5 ;  letter  of  acceptance, 
204n-206n;  letters  from  Zebulon 
B.  Vance,  206-7;  letters,  208,  210- 
12 ;  irritation  at  failure  to  get  let- 
ters, 211-12;  prison  routine,  212; 
visit  from  General  Pilsbury,  213; 
reflections  on  the  war,  213-15;  com- 
ments on  a  history  of  the  war,  215- 
17;  letters,  218;  visitors,  219;  dis- 
likes negro  neighbors,  219-20;  box 
from  home,  220-21;  visit  from  Gen- 
eral Pilsbury,  221;  difficulties  in 
factory,  221-22;  visit  from  General 
Pilsbury  with  a  gift  of  Blackstone, 
222-24;  no  letters,  223-24;  letters, 
224-25;  no  letters,  227;  reflections 
upon  Southern  conditions,  227-28; 
letters,  228-9;  troubled  by  intercep- 
tion of  mail,  229-30,  234;  discom- 
forts, 239;  visitors,  231;  reflections 
upon  the  Fourth  of  July,  232-33; 
letters,  234;  visit  from  Gerrit 
Smith,  234-37;  writes  upon  Ku 
Klux  Klan,  238;  interception  of 
mail,  241;  letters,  241-42;  discom- 
forts, 242-43;  discusses  the  N.  C. 
election,  243-44;  discusses  Keraney's 
Compendium,  245 ;  interviewed  by 
Colonel  Whitley,  245-46;  inter- 
viewed by  newspaper  reporter,  247; 
on  the  N.  C.  election,  247-48;  let- 
ters, 248;  on  prisoners,  248-49, 
254-55;  on  newspaper  article,  249- 
50;  rumor  of  pardon,  249;  on  Colo- 
nel Whitley's  report,  250-53;  ill, 
254-56,  258-60,  265-66;  letters, 
256-57;  quotes  Laboulaye,  257-58; 
letters,  260;  reflects  upon  the  year's 
imprisonment,  261 ;  discusses  elec- 
tions, 261-62;  letters,  262;  replies 
to  newspaper  article,  262-64;  writes 
Vance,  262-64;  on  reported  destruc- 
tion of  the  Sentinel  office,  264-65 ; 
on  General  Pilsbury,  265 ;  ill,  266- 
67;  letter  to  his  aunt,  267;  reply  to 


Index 


465 


newspaper  article,  267-69;  on  Ger- 
rit Smith,  269-70;  quotes  Charlotte 
Observer,  270-71;  recounts  wrongs, 
272;  ill,  273;  letter  from  Gerrit 
Smith,  273-74;  replies,  275-76; 
visits  General  and  Mrs.  Pilsbury, 
276;  on  elections,  276-78;  present 
from  General  Pilsbury,  277-78;  ill, 
278-79;  letters,  278-81;  quotes  ex- 
tracts from  N.  C.  newspapers,  281; 
quotes  a  letter  to  Samuel  G.  Brown, 
282 ;  appointed  hospital  steward  and 
librarian,  282-85;  work  with  sick 
and  dying,  286;  letters,  287;  dis- 
cusses reports  of  pardon  of  Ku  Klux 
prisoners,  287-90,  294-95;  work 
with  sick  and  dying,  288;  visit  from 
his  brother,  288;  letters,  290;  work 
with  sick  and  dying,  290;  writes  his 
aunt  defending  the  Ku  Klux,  291- 
94 ;  Christmas,  295 ;  box  from  home 
and  letters,  296;  new  Ku  Klux  pris- 
oners, 296-97 ;  work  with  sick  and 
dying,  296-97;  teaches  William 
Scruggs  to  write,  297-98;  letters, 
298-99;  work  with  sick  and  dying, 
299;  rejoices  at  pardon  of  David 
Collins,  299-300;  letters,  300-01; 
routine,  303 ;  work  with  sick  and 
dying,  308-09;  attends  to  General 
Pilsbury's  accounts,  309-14;  quotes 
prayer  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 
310;  writes  Gerrit  Smith  in  behalf 
of  S.  G.  Brown,  310-11;  on  par- 
dons, 312-14,  318;  letters,  313; 
troubled  in  mind,  313;  on  General 
Pilsbury,  314-15;  work  with  sick 
and  dying,  316-17;  ill,  317;  teach- 
ing Scruggs,  318;  on  Washington's 
birthday,  319;  discomforts,  320;  on 
the  pardon  of  a  man  not  in  prison, 
320-21;  writes  prison  inventory, 
322;  pleased  at  election  of  Cap- 
tain Louis  D.  Pilsbury  to  succeed 
his  father,  322 ;  love  among  the 
prisoners,  323-24;  their  poetry, 
324-25;  hopes  for  Brown's  pardon, 
325-26;  discusses  his  case,  326-31; 
assists  the  chaplain,  332;  box  from 
home,  333;  letters,  334;  writes 
General  Leventhorpe,  335-37;  on 
Grant's  inauguration,  337-38;  hos- 
pital experiences,  338-40;  letters, 
341-42;  quotes  De  Tocqueville, 
343-44;  hospital  experiences,  344; 
on  singing  service,  344;  work  with 
sick  and  dying,  344-45 ;  no  letters, 
346;  thoughts  on  spring,  345; 
General  Pilsbury's  last  visit,  345- 
46;  discusses  life  of  General  Mc- 
Clellan,  346-47;  hospital  experi- 
ences,   347-49;    on   S.    G.    Brown's 


case,  349-50;  no  letters,  350;  work 
with  sick  and  dying,  351-52;  letters 
from  General  Leventhorpe,  352-53; 
on  Nj  C.  amnesty  act,  353-54; 
quotes  newspapers  on  discontinu- 
ance of  Ku  Klux  cases,  354-55;  de- 
scribes a  lecture,  355-56;  letters, 
357-58;  on  Caldwell,  Lusk,  and 
Justice,  357-59;  work  with  sick  and 
dying,  359-60;  on  injustice  in  the 
courts,  359-61 ;  bitter  and  depressed, 
361-62;  letters,  362;  on  falsehoods 
about  the  South,  362-64;  describes 
prisoners'  letters,  364-65 ;  no  letters, 
365 ;  work  with  sick  and  dying, 
365 ;  depressed  at  news  of  no  fur- 
ther Ku  Klux  pardons,  365-67;  dis- 
comforts, 368 ;  work  with  sick  and 
dying,  368-69;  writes  for  publica- 
tion, 369;  letters,  370;  bad  news 
from  the  South,  370;  writes  Gener- 
al Leventhorpe,  370-72;  writes  a 
temperance  tract,  372;  work  with 
sick  and  dying,  373;  letters,  373; 
depressed,  374;  on  Colonel  T.  C. 
Calicott,  374-75 ;  on  visit  of  North- 
ern ministers,  375-76;  on  pardoning 
methods,  376-77;  visitors,  377-78; 
letter  of  Durham  to  Leventhorpe, 
378;  letters,  378-79;  on  Republican 
quarrels  in  western  N.  C,  379-80; 
letters,  380;  deals  with  a  lunatic, 
380-81;  a  case  of  delirium  tremens, 
381;  bitter  and  depressed,  383;  on 
case  of  Leander  Spencer,  385;  de- 
scribes the  prison  surgeon,  386-87; 
retrospect  of  Fort  Delaware,  387- 
88;  letters,  389;  on  pardon  of  crim- 
inals, 389,  391;  case  of  Samuel  Ber- 
ry, 392-400;  discomforts,  400-1;  on 
S.  G.  Brown's  case,  401-03;  death 
of  General  Pilsbury,  403-04;  deals 
with  a  lunatic,  403-08;  visitors, 
407-08;  no  letters,  408;  describes 
memorial  service  for  General  Pils- 
bury, 409-10;  on  difficulty  of  es- 
cape, 410-12;  depressed,  413; 
deals  with  lunatic,  414;  describes 
fight  of  owl  and  cat,  415-16;  deals 
with  lunatic,  418;  discomforts,  418; 
no  letters,  420 ;  on  theft  of  his  let- 
ters, 420-21;  on  effects  of  impris- 
onment, 421-22;  hopes  of  pardon, 
422-23;  on  pardons,  423-24;  no  let- 
ters, 424;  hears  he  is  pardoned, 
426-27;  disappointed,  427;  deals 
with  lunatic,  428;  letters,  429;  par- 
doned, 430-31;  released,  433;  on 
failure  to  pay  expenses  of  travel 
home,  432-35;  clothes  destroyed, 
433;  gratitude  to  H.  R.  Hudson, 
435;  writes  for  newspapers,  435-36; 


466 


Index 


quotes  General  D.  H.  Hill,  435-36; 
visits  Captain  Pilsbury,  436-37; 
leaves  Albany,  438-39;  arrives  in 
New  York,  439;  unsuccessful  ef- 
forts to  sell  newspaper  articles,  439- 
40;  visit  from  M.  S.  Shotwell,  439; 
ill,  439-40;  visits  Princeton,  440; 
goes  to  Baltimore,  441;  kindness 
of  Matt  Manly  and  others,  441-43; 
entertained,  442;  describes  theatre 
fire,  442-43 ;  goes  down  the  Bay, 
443-44;  kindness  of  Alexander  B. 
Andrews,  444-45 ;  encounter  with 
Judge  H.  L.  Bond,  444-45;  in  Ra- 
leigh, 446;  in  Charlotte,  446-47; 
sees  friends,  447;  writes  Mrs.  S. 
G.  Brown,  447;  met  by  friends, 
448-49;  reaches  Shelby,  448-49;  on 
Plato  Durham,  449-50;  reaches 
home,  450;  message  from  J.  M. 
Justice,  45 1 ;  interview  with  Jus- 
tice, 451-52;  death  of,  452;  looks 
for  newspaper  opening,  452-53;  dis- 
appointment, 454-55;  becomes  as- 
sistant editor  of  the  Southern 
Home,  455;  leaves  Rutherfordton, 
455-56;  begins  work  in  Charlotte, 
456;  irritated  by  attitude  of  the 
public,  456-57. 

Sims,  R.  M.,  417. 

Smith,  Gerrit,  234-37,  248-50,  268- 
70,  273-76,  294,  300,  306,  310-11, 
351. 

Smith,  William,  225,  385,  Appendix.  - 

Spelman,  John,  29. 

Spencer,  Leander,  225,  385-86,  Ap- 
pendix. 

Splawn,  D.  S.,  419,  423,  Appendix. 

Stampers,  E.  C,  344-45. 

Stanbery,  Henry,  200,  295. 

Stanton,  Edwin  M.,  425. 

Starbuck,  D.   H.,    12-15. 

Stephens,  Alexander  H.,   314. 

Stevenson,   John  W.,    394. 

Stewart,  ,  318,  Appendix. 

Strickland,  Benjamin,  225,  350,  Ap- 
pendix. 

Strudwick,  Frederick  N.,  102,  184. 

Strong,  George  V.,  38,  53,  55,  307, 
314,  331-32. 

Summers,  John  A.,   344. 

Surratt,  Mrs.  Mary  A.,  360. 

Swain,  David  L.,  274. 

Sweezy,  James  H.,  2,  5,  35. 

Swepson,  George  W.,  67. 


Tanner,  William,  40,  61. 

Tate,   Charles,   Appendix. 

Teal,  Calvin,  40,  61. 

Teal,  William,  40,  57,  89,  95,  254-55, 

266,  285,  446,  Appendix. 
Teal,  Mrs.  William,  285. 
Thiem,  Phil.,  94,  106. 
Thomas,  General  George  H.,  394. 
Thompson,  Mrs.  John  R.,  440. 
Thorne,  Nathaniel,   35. 
Turner,  Josiah,  70,  80,  91,  180,  264- 

65. 


Valentine,  George  R.,  380. 
Vance,  General  Robert  B.,  234. 
Vance,   Governor  Zebulon  B.,   206-8, 

262-64,    267,    271,    281,    296,    305, 

307,  314. 
Vassey,  Jonas,  Appendix. 

W 

Walker,  Wiley  S.,  35. 

Wallace,  Alexander  S.,  312,  349-50, 
376,  401-02,  423,  429. 

Wallace,  John,   381,  Appendix. 

Warlick,  H.  C,  347,  Appendix. 

Whisonant,    Jerome,    Appendix. 

Whisonant,  John,  Appendix. 

Whitesides,  George  M.,  38,  71,  184- 
85. 

Whitesides,  Jonathan,  35. 

Whitesides,  Thomas  B.,  200,  Appen- 
dix. 

Whitesides,  W.  C,  297. 

Whiting,  Brainard,   28. 

Whiting,  General  W.  H.  C,  28. 

Whitley,     Colonel     ,     248-53, 

266,  304. 

Whitlock,  John,  297. 

Williams,  George  S.,  424-25. 

Wilson,  R.  E.,  12-15,  22. 

Wills,  David,   329-30. 

Wirz,  Henry,  360. 

Wright,  George  S.,  225,  309,  Ap- 
pendix. 


Yates,  W.  J.,  190,  198,  447. 

Young,  Mrs.  ,   195. 

Young,  John  D.,  232,  309,  316,  Ap- 
pendix. 
Young,  Reuben  G.,  232,  Appendix. 
Young,  Ringold,  232,  Appendix. 


Worth  Carolina  Stat©  Library 
Raleigh 


STATE  LIB 


RARY  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA 


3  3091  00748  5949 


Restricted  To  U